The Records of Vincent Trill of the Detective Service

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DICK DONOVAN'S DETECTIVE STORIES.

Post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2s, each ; cloth, 2s, 6d, each.

THE MAN-HUNTER.

CAUGHT AT LAST 1

TRACKED AND TAKEN.

A DETECTIVE»S TRIUMPHS.

WHO POISONED HETTY DUNCAN ?

IN THE GRIP OF THE LAW.

WANTED !

LINK BY LINK.

FROM INFORMATION RECEIVED.

SUSPICION AROUSED.

DARK DEEDS.

RIDDLES READ.

Crown 8vo. cloth extra, y. 6d. each ; post 8vo. illustrated boards,
2s. each ; cloth limp, 2s, 6d, each.

! TRACKED TO DOOM. With 6 Illustrations by

V Gordon Browne.

THE MAN FROM MANCHESTER. With 23
Illustrations by J. H. Russell.

THE MYSTERY OF JAMAICA TERRACE.

► THE CHRONICLES OF MICHAEL DANEVITCH.

\

J Crown 8vo. cloth, 3J. 6d,

THE RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL.

London: CHATTO & WINDUS, in St. Martin's Lane, W.C.

WL\ckdo(^

VINCENT TRILL

rSINTBD BT

SPorritwooDB and co^ nkw*itubt iquaks

LONDON

THE RECORDS

OF

VINCENT TRILL

OF THE DETECTIVE SERVICE

DICK DONOVAN

AlTTHOtt CW

OF JAMAICA TEKRACK ' ETC.

LONDON

CHATTO & WINDUS

1899

^'n

m4

CONTENTS

i

rAGB

I. THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR ... I

II. THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN l6

III. A STRANGE TRAGEDY 29

IV. AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 47

V. A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 66

VI. THE LEAGUE OF DEATH .84

VII. THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE lOO

VIIL THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL II6

IX. AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY . . . . I30

X. THE MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW . . . 144

XL WHY THE HON. PETER HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 1 56

XII. WILLIAM WESTLARE'S HEIRESS I7I

XIIL THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 1 88

XIV. AT DEADLY ENMITY 202

XV. THE FORGED CHEQUE : A VILLAGE DRAMA . . 240

XVI. JUDGED BY THE DEAD : A PARIS TRAGEDY . . . 261

•

THE RECORDS

OP

VINCENT TRILL

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR

It was in December — a December that is far away now
down the stream of time — that a large party of guests were
assembled under the hospitable roof of Oaklands Manor,
then in possession of the late Sir Benjamin Brankstone, who
was known far and wide as one of the foremost philan-
thropists of his day. Sir Benjamin was practically a self-
made man, for, although a member of a good country
family, he started life with little more than the proverbial
shilling, but by industry, tact, and talent, he amassed a
very large fortune.

Oaklands Manor came into his possession by purchase.
It was a splendid old country mansion, which, although
built in the stirring times of Queen Elizabeth's reign, had
escaped the sacrilegious hands that so ruthlessly destroyed
under Oliver Cromwell's regime, and having passed un-
scathed through the changing fortunes of generations, it
became the home of Sir Benjamin Brankstone, mellowed
and hallowed by time. Picturesque in the extreme, with
its muUioned windows, massive chimney stacks, grey walls.

C\

") »

RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and great masses of clinging ivy, it presented a very conspicuous
landmark, and was one of the most prominent features in
a landscape which, for diversity and beauty of detail, would
have been hard to beat. It stood in extensive and well-
wooded grounds of many acres. These grounds were
celebrated for their magnificent trees, mostly oaks and
birches, and also for a curious serpentine lake, nearly two miles
in length, and having in its centre a small island on which
stood a model, then in ruins, of an Indian temple. Some
former proprietor had put up this building to gratify a
passing whim, no doubt. Those who came after him did
not take the same interest in it, and it was allowed to
crumble to ruins ; but the kindly ivy had mantled it, while
ferns grew in profusion, not only around its base, but
on its crumbling walls, and helped to fill in the details of a
picture which aroused the enthusiasm of every artist who
saw it. Many were the pilgrimages made by privileged
visitors to this charming spot, where peace and repose
seemed to have their home, far from the heat and fret of
the passionate world.

It is necessary to state that Sir Benjamin Brankstone
had been married three times. The Lady Brankstone of
the period we are now dealing with had only been his wife
for three months, and they had but recently returned from
an extensive tour through Italy and Spain. Her age was
not more than five-and-twenty, while he was verging on
seventy, but, nevertheless, was a hale, vigorous, hearty man,
who looked younger than his years.

Lady Brankstone was the daughter of a country doctor
who practised in a neighbouring town, and whose income
was out of all proportion to the number of his family. Five
daughters and two sons had taxed his resources severely,
and made life a terrible struggle. Beatrice, his eldest
daughter, who had become Lady Brankstone, was con-
spicuous for her good looks and superb figure, and it was
said of her that she had turned the heads of half the young
men in the county. Certain people spoke of her as * flighty,*
and some even went so hr as to say she was ^deceitful.*

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR 3

That she had aroused the jealousy of women and thje envy
of men was pretty certain, for, enjoying rude health, and
overflowing with animal spirits, she had given herself up to
enjoyment in the worldly sense, and seldom missed an
opportunity of being present at a ball, party, picnic, and
the like.

When * old Sir Benjamin ' first began to take notice
of this country maiden, rough-tongued folks said some
nasty things, but when she had actually become Lady Brank-
stone there was at once a struggle, so to speak, to get into
her good graces, for Sir Benjamin's great wealth and in-
fluence made him a power in the land, and as soon as the
newly-married couple returned from their tour, visitors
filled the house, and people who had formerly found it
difficult to speak civilly to Beatrice, the pretty daughter of
the country doctor, were now ready to bow the knee to
* Lady ' Brankstone.

The invitees who had assembled at Oaklands Manor
to do honour to May and December were not only
numerous but very representative, and, as it wanted but a
few days to Christmas, many, if not all, had been asked to
stay and join in the Christmas festivities, which had ever
been a feature at the Manor. Indeed, it was said that at
Christmas-time Sir Benjamin kept open house, and no
one who liked to present himself was sent away empty.

A dance had been arranged, and the ^ ball-room ' of the
Manor had been most tastefully decorated for the occasion.
It was generally admitted the belle of the evening was un-
questionably the young bride, whose husband was overjoyed
as he noted that she was * the cynosure of all eyes,' to use
a phrase dear to the heart of the lady novelist. Lady
Brankstone was particularly bright, and radiant with health
and happiness. Although fully conscious of her beauty
and attractiveness, she was reserved and dignified in her
bearing, and filled her new position in life with ease and
grace, which won the goodwill even of those who at one
time tossed their heads when her name was mentioned.
About midnight she was suddenly missed. Supper had

B2

4 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

been announced, and when the hostess was looked for
she could not be found. A servant was sent to her
rooms, but came back with the information that she was
not there. While her absence caused no alarm, it
certainly did cause surprise, but surprise gave place
to alarm after a time, when search and inquiry alike &iled
to elicit any information as to the lady's whereabouts. The
alarm increased when an hour elapsed and there were still
no tidings, and it became only too evident that her ladyship
was not in the house. Here at once was a mystery that
gave rise to all sorts of speculation, and caused a shadow to
&11 upon the erstwhile merry party, while, as for Sir
Benjamin, he was almost beside himself with grief. Assem-
bling the servants, who were numerous, he instructed them
to go forth and scour the grounds, and in this search nearly
all the gentlemen of the party joined.

It was a bleak, bitter, dreary night, flioroughly typical
of an English December. A heavy fog hung like a pall
over the land. The ground was sodden with moisture ; the
wet mist dripped from the trees. It was a night that made
one shiver and shudder ; a ghostly, gloomy, despair-begetting
sort of night ; and when a distant church clock tolled out
the hour of two, the sound seemed to roll over the land with
a distinctiveness and an accentuated solemnity that were
startling, for the air was so still : everything was so eerie,
so weird.

Slowly that awful night of suspense and anxiety passed
away. Nobody slept. All sorts of wild theories were
broached and abandoned. The people were at their wits'
ends to suggest what would seem even tolerably feasible*
The dawn of the dismal winter day made it only too evident
that Lady Brankstone had disappeared. Speculation was
rife, and many theories were advanced, but as neither specu-
lation nor theory explained the mystery. Sir Benjamin
yielded to the advice of an old friend, and summoned
Vincent Trill to his aid, for the search of the entire house-
hold had produced no result.

When Trill arrived upon the scene he made himself

L

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR s

acquainted with such facts as were necessary for his purpose ;
he elicited that the lady had taken nothing with her, and
had not even changed her evening dress. Sir Benjamin
declared that the relations between himself and his young
wife were of the most amiable and loving character, and
during their short married career there had not been a single
discord to interrupt the harmony.

Trill's investigation corroborated what had already been
pretty conclusively proved — the lady had entirely disappeared
from the house, for every nook and cranny, every hole and
corner capable of concealing a human body was exhaustively
searched, without revealing a sign that was calculated to be
of service. Trill brought to light one little fact, however,
which had up to then escaped the notice of the searchers. A
somewhat costly woollen shawl had disappeared from Lady
Brankstone's room. Her maid remembered having seen it
last lying at the foot of the bed, where her ladyship had
carelessly thrown it after having worn it round her shoulders
during a visit to the stables, previous to dressing for dinner.
As the shawl could not be found, the inference it suggested
was that the lady had taken it with her. Following this
Trill now made another discovery : the dainty slippers her
ladyship had been wearing had been kicked under the bed
and a pair of thick winter boots could not be found. There
was now no longer the slightest room to doubt that her lady-
ship had deliberately left her residence, and the problem to be
solved was. Why had she gone, and where had she gone to ?

When many days had passed this question was still
unanswered. The guests had dispersed, and poor old Sir
Benjamin was prostrated with grief. Needless to say, the
case caused the greatest excitement throughout the country,
and the publicity given to it set everyone on the alert.
Nevertheless, no reliable information was forthcoming, and
when a week had elapsed the mystery was as great a mystery
as ever.

It must not be supposed that during this time Vincent
Trill was inactive. He worked according to his own
methods) and drew his own conclusions. The prevailing

6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

opinion throughout the district was that the ladv had grown
tired of her aged husband, and had gone off with some
former lover. This opinion was unreasonably based on
rumours, all more or less vague and ill-founded, that Lady
Brankstone, before her marriage, had been very wild. From
searching inquiry Trill ascertained that she had been no
worse than many other young women situated as she was
situated ; and though people were ready enough to make
cowardly hints and dark insinuations they could not justify
them when called upon to do so. His own opinion was
that the lady was no longer in the land of the living ; that
she had met with foul play, and her body would be found
within the boundary of the Oakland Manor grounds. His
reason for this was that she could have had no intention,
when she left her husband's home, of going far, or she would
not have gone out on such a raw and bitter night so lightly
clad. Then again, there was every reason for thinking that her
going away was quite unpremeditated, otherwise she would
not have left everything behind her. For instance, there
was much valuable jewellery that she could quite easily have
carried, and in the drawer of her escritoire in her dressing-
room was a considerable sum of money which she would
surely have possessed herself of had she contemplated flight.
Having come to the conclusion in his own min^ that
Lady Brankstone had met her death in some mysterious way,
TriU turned his attention to trying to discover if any of the
servants were in a position to throw light on the matter.
For instance. Lady Brankstone could hardly have had any
intention of leaving the house half an hour or an hour, say,
before she went. Had it been prearranged, she would not
have chosen such an inopportune moment. This argued
that a message had been conveyed to her, and she had gone
forth for some purpose not easy to define, but presumably
with the intention of returning speedily. Now, assuming
that this theory was correct, it followed that the person who
conveyed the message was someone who knew the house,
and who had access to her ladyship. Who was the some-
one ? Trill set to work determinedly to find out.

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR 7

As her ladyship had not lived at the Manor previous to
her return from abroad after her honeymoon trip, she was
not familiar with any of the servants, with two exceptions,
her maid, Annie Fenton, and Sir Benjamin's valet, Joseph
Wright, both of whom had accompanied their master and
mistress abroad. Miss Fenton solemnly declared that she
had not conveyed any message to her mistress, of whose
ai&irs she knew little or nothing, for Lady Brankstone was
very reticent, and not at all given to making a confidante of
her maid, as some weak-minded ladies do. Trill next
turned his attention to Joseph Wright, who, under search-
ing examination, betrayed himself, and confessed that on
the night of her ladyship's disappearance he had conveyed a
note to her, at the instigation of a man who accosted him
in the grounds and offered him two sovereigns for his
service. What the note contained and who the man was
Joseph Wright vowed that he did not know. It was dark
when the stranger met him at the lodge gate, and beyond
the fact that he seemed of medium height, of rather stout
build, had a raucous voice, and smelt strongly of liquor, he
could not describe him. Joseph gave the note to her lady-
ship about half an hour before she was missed.

If Joseph Wright's statement was true — and Trill saw
no reason for doubting him — it proved that some man had
had such a powerful influence over Lady Brankstone that
he was enabled to induce her to leave her husband's roof, on
a bitter winter night, to meet him. Her ladyship's room
and the pockets of her dresses were searched for the note
which the valet said, he had given to her, but without avail.
Not a sign was forthcoming cdculated to afford a clue. Of
course the serpentine pond was dragged, and the ruins of
the temple on the little island examined, but nothing came
of it.

All contrary to the prevailing opinion. Trill adhered to
his belief that the lady had met with foul play. His reason
for this was that had she intended flight she would have
prepared herself. Had she been carried off against her will,
some information would surely have been forthcoming from

8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

some quarter or another ; more particularly as Sir Benjamin
had offered a large reward for any information that would
lead to the lady's whereabouts being discovered.

A consideration of all these iactS| and a careful weighing
of the possibilities of Lady Brankstone having gone off
with someone by prearrangement — ^and it was too wild a
theory to suppose she would have eloped without some
previous understanding — strengthened Trill in his belief
in foul play. On the other hand, if she had been mur-
dered) what had become of her body ? The grounds
had, seemingly, been most thoroughly searched by eager
and keen-eyed searchers, and the lake had been exhaustively
dragged. To effectually dispose of a dead body illegi-
timately is, as everyone knows, an exceedingly difficult
matter. Were it not for this fact, undetected crimes would
be far more frequent than they are.

It was somewhat singular that Trill was quite alone in
his opinion about foul play. What was in everyone's mind
was that the lady, having repented her marriage, had gone
off with some early lover. Indeed, people were not wanting
who openly blamed Trill for * wasting his time,' as they
said, about the house, when, if the mystery was really to be
solved, he should go further afield. Needless to say, these
views and opinions did not affect him in the least. He had
thoroughly worked out the case from a theoretical point of
view, and came to the conclusion that the lady had not
passed beyond the grounds. He felt sure that had she
done so some information would have been forthcoming ;
for a lady lightly clad and in ball costume could not have
travelled very far, in spite of any precautions that might
have been taken, without attracting the attention of some-
one ; and having regard to the fact that Lady Brankstone's
portrait had been widely circulated, and a large reward
offered for any information that would serve to throw any
light on her disappearance, it is certain that some clue would
have been obtained, for she could hardly have managed to
escape the observation of everyone. But day after day
passed by, and the ominous silence remained unbroken. To

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR 9

Trill all this was very significant ; and he felt sure the
solution of the m3rstery need not be sought for at any great
distance from the Manor. This was his theory, and he
stuck to it, and his perseverance was at last rewarded by a
startling and extraordinary discovery.

It has already been explained that the grounds of the
Manor were extensive and well-wooded. A boundary fence
of stout oak encompassed the estate, and at the main entrance
was a lodge and massive gate. At a point diametrically
opposite the lodge, and about half a mile off, was a keepers'
hut. Sir Benjamin retained the services of four keepers,
and it was the duty of two of these men to be always on the
alert at night, as great depredations had been committed in
the neighbourhood by poachers. Near the keepers' hut was
a small gate, communicating with a lonely country lane.
The main entrance was from a private road about a hundred
yards in length, branching off from the main highway.
Anyone wishing to enter or leave the grounds must do so
by one of the two entrances described, unless he climbed
over some part of the boundary fence. That was the means
of entrance and exit adopted by poachers and tramps. Now,
no one could have passed through the main entrance
without disturbing the lodge-keeper, as after dark the gates
were invariably locked. The gamekeepers* gate was also
kept locked with a chain and padlock. It was a considera-
tion of these facts, and of the difficulties which would
confront a lady who attempted to get out of the grounds
any other way but the right way, which led Trill to the
conclusion that Lady Brankstone had never passed beyond
the grounds. With the persistency, therefore, for which he
was noted, he traversed and retraversed the estate over and
over again, in the hope of picking up some clue that would
enable him to solve the mystery. At length one day, in a
wild spot, known as Gorse Bottom, where there were some
very old trees and a thick tangle of undergrowth, he found
a gold watch and portion of a chain. It was a very valuable
watch indeed, and bore the following inscription :

* To Beatrice 5 from her loving husband.'

10 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

The broken links of the chain showed that it had been
forcibly wrenched from the other portion. The watch was
lying amongst some withered bracken, and might have lain
there for years without attracting attention. Trill came
upon it as he was searching the ground for footprints.

It was evident from their bright state that the watch
and piece of chain had not been there very long, and the
inscription indicated that the watch was a gift from Sir
Benjamin Brankstone to his wife. Now it was evident that
the watch could not have been dropped there by accident,
for Gorse Bottom in the winter was a dark, swampy spot,
not likely to be visited by a lady as a matter of pleasure.
On one of the sloping sides of the hollow were the remains
of a gigantic oak, that had flourished centuries ago, and had
been one of the monarchs of the primeval forest. All that
remained now was a stupendous trunk, with masses of
gnarled and knotted roots, which spread out on all sides.
The finding of the watch had necessarily stimulated Trill's
faculties, and he noticed that the wet moss and decaying
leaves round about the trunk of the tree had been trampled
upon recently. Some withered branches of the tree came
quite low down, and by their aid anyone could with
comparative ease climb to the top of the trunk, which was
less than twenty-five feet from the ground. Trill was
induced to climb to the top by observing certain signs on
the bark of the branches. Bits of wet moss and leaves,
carried from the ground by a boot, were adhering to the
bark. But for the finding of the watch Trill might not
have attached any importance to this fact ; as it was, he
was induced to ascend the tree, and on reaching the crown
he found that the trunk was perfectly hollow. He was
surprised to observe a stout stick laid across the hollow
trimk, and a xope that was made fast to the stick went down
into the hollow, like the bucket-rope of a well. He tugged
at this rope, and found that there was a weight attached to
it. Pulling some paper from his pocket, he lighted it, and
held the improvised torch so that it threw its light down into
the trunk, when to his amazement the flame revealed what

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR ii

seemed to be the top of a man's head. This indeed was a
startling and horrible discovery, which added to the mystery
instead of elucidating it ; for here in the hollow trunk of
this ancient oak a man's body was suspended. What did
it mean ?

Whose body was it, and how came it there ? This was
a question admitting of no answer at that stage, and all that
Trill could do was to descend and obtain assistance. This he
did by going to the keepers' hut and requesting some of the
men to return with him to "Gorse Bottom. Arrived there
they mounted the tree, and by their united efforts brought
to light the decomposed corpse of a man about thirty
years of age, who had died by hanging. It seemed on the
face of it a case of suicide, and for a man to take his life in
such a place was possibly without a parallel in the history of
self-slaughter. Who was the man, and why had he sought
such a secluded nook in which to end his days ? It was
perfectly obvious that he must have been well acquainted
with the place. He had not the appearance of a tramp, for
his clothes were fairly good, and the state of the hands
indicated that he had never done any manual labour.

Needless to say that when this ghastly discovery became
known the excitement ran up to fever heat again, for it
only deepened the mystery, as people asked what connection
there was between this eccentric suicide and Lady Brank-
stone's strange disappearance ?

It was deemed advisable at first to withhold the news of
the suicide from Sir Benjamin for the time being, as he was
in a very precarious state of health ; but as the inquest on the
man's remains failed to elicit any information, or to lead to
identification, it was deemed important that Sir Benjamin
should be consulted. This was done, and thereupon the
old gentleman decided that he would go and view the body,
more as a matter of form than from any belief that he would
be able to identify it ; but scarcely had he set eyes upon the
ghastly remains of decaying mortality than he was seized with
a fit, and conveyed home again in a state of unconscious-
ness. The mystery was thus deepened, for no one seemed

12 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

capable of offering the slightest explanation, and as Sir
Benjamin remained in a critical condition for many days,
during which the doctors would not allow any questions to
be put to him, the coroner's jury returned a verdict that the
unknown man had come to his death by his own hand, but
there was nothing to show the state of the man's mind when
he committed the fatal act. The outside opinion was that
none but a madman would have selected so remarkable a
place tp hang himself in as the hollow of a tree ; and another
opinion, which was probably nearer the mark, was that in
electing to take his life in the hollow oak he did so in the
hope that his body would never be discovered. The chances
were all in fevour of its not being found, had Trill not
persisted in his search of the grounds. But now that this
strange tragedy had been brought to light, what did it prove
to the public generally ? Absolutely nothing, though it
added another element of mystery to the existing mystery.
Yet, oddly enough, no one associated the two save Trill
himself. He was convinced that this man's suicide had some
bearing on Lady Brankstone's disappearance, and he was now
more than ever of opinion that she had been the victim of
foul play. If his theory was correct she must have been
murdered soon after leaving her husband's house, and that
being so, her body could not have been taken very far away.
Nevertheless Trill failed to get any trace of it. He again
had the lake dragged ; he again searched the ruins of the
Indian temple, and he once more retraced his steps over his
tracks in different parts of the grounds, but always with the
same result, until he reluctantly came to the conclusion that
the search must be abandoned.

At this stage, however, he propounded to himself a new
theory, which ran somewhat on the following lines :

The man who was found hanging inside of the oak tree
must have been a very determined and very eccentric man,
eccentric in so far as his death was concerned, at any rate,
for the place he had selected for his self-slaughter would
not have occurred to one man out of millions, perhaps. It
was also self-evident that the fellow was well acquainted

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS MANOR 13

with the grounds, and knew that the oak was hollow the
whole length of its trunk. Externally there was no indica-
tion of that, though the practised eye of a forester might
have determined it, but the non-expert could only have
found it out by clambering to the top. Now supposing
that man was responsible for the disappearance of the lady,
was it not reasonable to assume he had been equally eccentric
in disposing of her body f The inference was that he wished
his crime to remain undiscovered, and took his plans
accordingly.

This line of argument determined Trill on subjecting
the oak tree to a more critical examination, in the belief
that its dark depths might hold the solution to the mystery.
With the aid of a ladder, and assisted by the gamekeepers,
he once more mounted the ponderous trunk, and this time
was provided with a lantern made fast to the end of a long
cord. The lantern was lowered into the hollow of the
trunk and revealed the fact that at the bottom was what
appeared to be a heap of clothes. By dint of great labour,
and after many difficulties had been overcome, that bundle
of clothes was brought to the surface, and proved to be the
body of poor Lady Brankstone, in her ball dress, as she had
left her husband's house. That she had been murdered
there wasn't room for a doubt, as a silk handkerchief was
found tied round her delicate throat, and so tightly had it
been tied that it had cut into the flesh and strangled her.
To have carried her body up amongst the branches of the
tree, in order to hurl it into the hollow trunk, must have
taxed the strength of even a strong man. But the muscular
development of the suicide made it clear that he was
possessed of unusual strength, was an athlete in fact ; and
everything now suggested that having slain his victim he
disposed of the fair body by concealing it in the oak, in the
hope that his awful crime might for ever remain a mystery,
and for a like reason he took his own life in the same place,
so that in due time, when the rope by which he was
suspended rotted, his body would fall, and his bones mingle
with those of his victim. The murderer was evidently of an

14 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

original turn of mind, and it was no less evident he must
have been unusually determined.

In the bosom of Lady Brankstone's dress was a letter
written in a man's hand, and the wording of it threw a
weird light on the ghastly tragedy. Thus it ran :

* My dear Beatrice — To-morrow I am going away for
ever. I leave for London by an early train, and thence
proceed in a few days for India, where I have resolved to
end my days. I feel, however, that it is impossible to take
my departure without a farewell interview with you. You
must grant me this ; I say you must grant it. One brief
quarter of an hour is all I ask, and you cannot, dare not
refuse me. I appeal to you by all that you hold sacred, and
by what we have been to each other. I am a broken,
desolate man, and weary of my life. I have several things
to say to you which it is necessary I should say in your own
interest. Therefore fail not to come. We shall never
have an opportunity of meeting again this side of the grave.
I will be at the Apollo fountain in the Dutch garden at 9.30.
Do not disappoint me. I will not detain you more than
half an hour. — Yours,

* Ronald.

* P.S. — Destroy this note as soon as you have read it.'

« • . . • .

When Sir Benjamin had somewhat recovered from the
attack which had all but snapped the thread of his life, it
became necessary for him to give evidence at the inquest on
the body of his ill-starred bride, and then it was that the
foregoing letter proved to be the key to the dark and deadly
mystery. Much as the poor suffering gentleman would
have liked to conceal his skeleton from the vulgar gaze of the
world he was impelled in the interests of justice to reveal the
terrible truth. * Ronald,' it appeared, was a son by a
former wife, but he had given way to habits which had
caused serious difference between him and his father, and
ultimately his father was compelled to turn him adrift. At

THE MYSTERY OF OAKLANDS IV^ANOR 15

one time his son had been a suitor for the hand of Beatrice,
and there was reason to suppose she had become very fond
of him, but his father deemed it his duty to warn her against
him. The warning was so far eflFective that she gave him
up, and ultimately transferred her affections to the father
instead. Ronald had brooded over this until he lost com-
mand of himself, and determined on an awful revenge.
The artful wording of his letter to his victim showed that
he did not overrate his power to influence her to grant him
a last interview. Weakly the poor thing had yielded to
that power, and gone forth on that dreary December night
to her doom. It was a thoroughly human story, very sad
and very pitiable, but none the less human, and one that
would probably have remained for ever and ever a story of
mystery had not Vincent Trill's remarkable skill been
brought to bear upon it.

Sir Benjamin Brankstone did not long survive the blow,
and for many years Oaklands Manor remained tenantless, as
people said a curse rested upon it.

i6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

II
THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN

It was towards the end of spring, some years ago, when
Trill was suddenly called upon to investigate a case which
had in it all the elements of a startling romance. The
gentleman whose name figured so prominently in the story
was very well known in London society, and was regarded as
one of the brilliant band of young men whom the late Earl of
Beaconsfield — then plain Mr. Disraeli — spoke of as * the
coming moulders of England's destiny.' This prediction
has been somewhat falsified, although one or two of the
band have certainly distinguished themselves.

At the period that the events I am about to relate
occurred, the Hon. Richard Shaw Fenton was a confidential
clerk in the War Office, where he was looked upon with
very great favour by his superiors. He was the son of Lord
Jeffery Fenton, who so greatly distinguished himself during
the Crimean War, and was honoured by being presented with
the freedom of his native town and a jewelled sword sub-
scribed for by his fellow townsmen.

Young Fenton was a handsome man,'endowed apparently
with almost all those qualities which are calculated to endear
men to men, and beget the love and admiration of women.
He was unmarried, and consequently he was in much
request by designing mammas ; for although he had little to
look forward to apart from his own efforts, it was confidently
anticipated that he would rise to high position, as he had
powerful friends at court. And this advantage, backed up

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN 17

by his own abilities and ambition, could not fail — so people
said — to ultimately give him power and wealth.

One evening, about nine o'clock, he left the War Office
in a hansom, bearing some very important documents,
which he was charged to deliver personally to a distinguished
General temporarily residing at Hyde Park Gate, where he
was confined to his room by a severe attack of gout* It
was during a period of excitement caused by strained re-
lations between Great Britain and France. A territorial
difficulty had arisen between the two countries, and there
had been such a conflict of opinion that matters had reached
an acute stage, and in both countries the shameless catch-
penny representatives of the press had indulged in threats
and recriminations, and had openly talked of war. There
had been an unusual number of * Meetings of the Cabinet.'
The air was thick with rumours. The public mind was in
that supersensitive condition when definiteness would have
been hailed with joy as a relief from vagueness and suspense.
The ignorant oracles of the halfpenny evening rags had pro-
duced a morbid tension of the nerves amongst the unthink-
ing classes, and sensational innuendo had lost its effi^ct. A
real sensation was needed ; a something that would divert
attention for the moment from the one burning topic of
conversation — the topic which had completely overshadowed
that ever-fruitful one of the weather. People talked of
v^r instead of the weather. Even the barber who shaved
you forgot his stock theme, and questioned his victim as to
what he thought the issue of it all would be.

The sensation so much needed came at last. In the
early light of the spring morning, a policeman pacing his
weary rounds in the neighbourhood of Sloane Square noticed
a hansom cab drawn up by the railings of the square. The
horse, probably thinking he was on his accustomed rank,
stood limp-legged and with drooped head. The reins were
hanging loosely on his back. The driver was on his perch,
but the upper half of his body was prone on the roof of the
cab. Inside was a fare, a gentleman, well dressed, but with
shirt front crumpled, his neckgear disarranged, and his

c

1 8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

highly polished hat lying at his feet. Like the driver he
seemed sunk in profound slumber, and all the efforts of the
policeman failed to produce the slightest arousing efiect on
either of them. Indeed it suddenly dawned upon the
policeman, with the suddenness of a shock, that both men
were dead. So he summoned aid, and the cab and its burden
were taken to the nearest police station. There the two
insensible men were hauled out, and for once the police
inspector on duty proved that all members of the force do
not hastily jump to the conclusion that because a man is
speechless and helpless he is necessarily drunk, for he secured
the assistance without loss of time of the divisional police
surgeon. When that gentleman arrived, he pronounced the
cab-driver in extremis^ and that pronouncement was soon
verified, for a ghastly pallor spread itself over his face and
his heart ceased to beat. The fare still breathed stertorously,
and vigorous means were taken to restore animation.
Visiting cards which he had on his person proved that he
was no other than the Hon. Richard Shaw Fenton of the
War Office.

After about an hour's treatment the patient was so far
reanimated that his removal with all speed to the hospital
was decided on, and an ambulance having been secured, he
was conveyed to St. George's Hospital, and a messenger was
despatched to inform his friends.

Nowhere at once was a first-class mystery, but, as was sub-
sequently proved, it was only the beginning. For the suc-
ceeding two or three days Fenton lay in a half-dazed state,
and was incapable of answering rationally the questions put
to him ; but one thing — and a very important thing, too
— was brought to light. The documents he was conveying
from the War Office to the General had not reached the
person to whom they were addressed ; they had disappeared,
and Mr. Fenton could give no information about them.
His mind seemed a perfect blank.

The post-mortem examination, which was perforce made,
of the remains of the unfortunate cabman, revealed the fact
that he had fallen a victim to some powerful drug, which

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN 19

had acted as a heart-depressant, and his heart being con-
stitutionally weak, he had succumbed. In Fenton*s case
his heart had managed to struggle against the eflFects of the
drug, but it had been left in such a highly nervous and
irritable state that it was considered advisable to keep him in
a condition of absolute rest.

In the meantime Vincent Trill had been set to work.
The missing documents were precious — indeed, of such vital
importance that his instructions were that he must recover
them, if possible, at all cost.

As may be supposed, there was a great deal more beneath
the surface than appeared. The prying and inquisitive
reporter got hold of the broad facts as given above, but he
could get no more, for the friends of the Hon. Richard Shaw,
Fenton, and the authorities alike were desirous of hushing
the matter up, for obvious reasons ; so the reporter, with the
monumental impudence for which he is famed, invented a
highly plausible story one day, to contradict it and invent
another the next.

In order to supply the necessary evidence at the adjourned
inquest the viscera of the cabman had been subjected to
analysis, and the report that was finally brought up was to
the effect that the man had died from the administration of
a very powerful narcotic, but what it was could not be
determined. Mr. Fenton, who had so far recovered as to be
able to give evidence at the adjourned inquest, stated that
he hired the cab in Pall Mall ; that on his way to Hyde Park he
called at an hotel, where he met two friends, with whom he
remained in conversation for nearly an hour. That previous
to leaving the hotel he ordered some whisky and soda to be
given to the cabman. He then got into the cab, and was
driven oflF, and remembered nothing more.

This remarkable story was promptly investigated. It
was proved to be true. The hotel was a highly respectable
house. The two friends mentioned were well-known
gentlemen, who swore that when Fenton left there was
nothing whatever the matter with him ; while the landlord
of the house indignantly disputed the insinuation that the

02

20 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

fatal drug had been administered at his house either wilfully
or inadvertently. Trill's most searching investigation failed
to disprove this assertion, so an open verdict was returned,
and the mystery was as great a mystery as ever. It may be
as well to state here at once that Vincent Trill came to the
conclusion that for some terrible reason the Hon. Richard
Shaw Fenton had lied, and, for reasons of his own, was
concealing something which might have thrown light on the
ai&ir. It was only too evident that the drugging was done
after the hotel was left ; but as Fenton persisted in his
statement, and nothing else could be dragged from him,
there was no other course left but to endeavour to solve the
mystery by such means as the clever detective was capable
of commanding. There were three things that suggested
themselves to Trill :

Firstly, Fenton had called somewhere else after leaving
the hotel.

Secondly, it was known that he was the bearer of very
important papers.

Thirdly, he had been drugged in order that the papers
might be stolen.

This reasoning, however, although it seemed logical
enough, did not suggest a rational theory as to why the cab-
man should have been drugged too. At least, at first it did
not ; but on pondering on the subject, it gradually dawned
upon Trill that whoever had administered the drug intended
that it should (and hoped that it would) prove fatal in each
case, so that the mystery would remain a mystery for ever. It
was very obvious that Mr. Fenton had strong reasons for
concealing the truth, and that seemed to suggest — to Trill,
at any rate, it did — that he had been where he ought not to
have been, and the attraction that had drawn him there was,
in all probability, a woman. That woman held the key
to the problem, and unless she could be found the problem
would go unsolved.

It has been stated that Fenton was a bachelor, and in
much request at houses where there were marriageable
daughters, and was very well known to a large number of

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN ai

ladies moving in good society in London. He occupied
apartments in St. James's Street, and was regarded as a very
reserved and secretive man, by no means given to making
confidants. Although all Fenton*s friends believed, or
professed to believe, that no blame was attachable to him,
the authorities took another view ; and as the loss of the
papers was not only a very serious thing in itself but proved
that Fenton was not reliable. Trill did not abandon his quest.

When Fenton left the hospital he was still unwell, and
remained so for some time, during which he kept to his
rooms, and received no visitors save his most intimate friends.
But three weeks after leaving the hospital he had so far re-
covered his health and spirits as to accept an invitation to be
the guest of a lady of feshion who resided near Haslemere.
This lady — z Mrs. Gerald Vandelour — ^was very wealthy.
She was, or was supposed to be, the widow of a military
officer ; but those who partook of her hospitality — which
was very lavish — did not allow any vagueness or un-
certainty as to her past to stand as a barrier between them
and her entertainments. Her house was a magnificent one ;
she kept quite an army of servants, and lived in a style that
suggested that money was no object.

When Fenton arrived he found a large number of guests
already assembled. On the following day there was to be
a garden f^te on a magnificent scale, and a huge marquee
was in process of erection on the extensive lawn, Mrs.
Gerald Vandelour was a very showy and seductive-looking
woman, with a mass of flufiy fair hair, and a pink and white
complexion — due in a large measure to art — and a figure
that inclined to stoutness ; but, nevertheless, she was
graceful withal and lithe. She was particularly attentive to
Fenton : indeed, she seemed to patronise him, took him
under her wing, and treated him much as if he had been a
great boy.

Amongst the guests was a singularly striking woman :
a woman so dark that she might have passed for a Spanish
gipsy. She had raven-black hair, intensely dark flashing
eyes, an imperious bearing, and a commanding, haughty

22 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

manner. She was a woman of marvellous beauty, and yet
there was something — z something that was absolutely in-
describable — about her that repelled rather than attracted.
In age she was under thirty-five, but might have passed for
thir^. She was known as ^ Madame Revel.'

Fenton looked ill, haggard, and worn ; and whenever
Madame was near it seemed as if he tried to avoid her.
And yet, when opportunity oflFered, she courted his society :
she smiled on him sweetly, her white teeth gleamed, and
her dark (lashing eyes peered into his until his drooped and
he turned from her.

ThtfSte was a brilliant afiair. Beauty and youth were
strongly in evidence. Light, flowers, music, sweet scents,
laughter, gaiety made it difficult to imagine that there was a
heavy heart amongst that brilliant throng, or sorrow and
suffering anywhere. It was a languid night. The air was
heavy ; the stars shone through a haze ; a crescent moon
sailed dreamily amongst filmy clouds. At eleven o'clock
dancing and music ceased, in order that the guests might
partake of supper in the great marquee, where an army of
waiters were ready to minister to the wants of the (apparently)
light-hearted people. But whenjthe guests took their seats
two persons were absent. They were Madame Revel and
Fenton. A waiter was also absent — 2l mooning, clumsy
sort of fellow, who had been rated several times during the
evening for his stupidity. He was known as John Stokes,
and when the supper was in full swing John Stokes was
nowhere to be found. Not that it mattered very much,
for there were plenty of attendants without him ; but still,
he ought to have done his duty. Instead of that he was
lying at full length in the shadow of some beech trees in a
secluded part of the grounds. But he wasn't asleep : oh,
dear, no ! With senses keenly alert, with eyes and ear
strained, he was witnessing a scene as weird, as startling and
dramatic as even the most vivid imagination could conceive.

The night was not dark. The crescent moon and the
stars shed a dreamy light over the scene. The trees were
sharply outlined, and looked ghostly and grim. The light

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN 23

breeze that stirred the foliage somehow sounded like a
human moan of pain ; and the laughter and conversation
of the revellers — subdued by distance — only seemed to
accentuate the silence of the night that brooded like a spell
of enchantment over the landscape. From his concealment
in the shadow of the beeches, Stokes, the waiter, gazed on a
lawn, in the centre of which was a very fine statue, by
Canova, of Apollo stringing a lyre. Against the pedestal
of the statue was a rustic seat, and two persons occupied it.
They were the wonderfully handsome Madame Revel — ^who
might have been the spirit of the scene, the goddess of night
— ^and the Hon. Richard Shaw Fenton.

At such a time and under such circumstances, it might
have been supposed that the man had led the lady to the
seclusion, away from the fret of the throng, that he might
pour into her ears an impassioned tale such as a man tells
when he has fallen a prey to beauty's charms ; but so far
from this being the case Fenton had given evidence of being
ill at ease.

The conversation between the twain was carried on in
low tones, so that the strained ears of Stokes could catch no
portion of it, but his keen vigilant eyes saw signs that even
a fool would have found no difficulty in interpreting. At
times Fenton would start up as if he intended to break from
his companion ; but then would she stretch forth a white
jewelled hand which touched his and caused him to sink into
the seat again. Two or three times he covered his face
with his hands and sighed ; and once while in this attitude
the word * Never, never ! ' repeated twice floated to the ears
of the listener. It was like the soul-wrung exclamation
from one who was suffering unbearable torture of mind.
Almost immediately after he sprang to his feet as if under
the influence of some stern resolution ; but once more
Madame stretched forth her hand, though this time she did
not touch him. She made strange and mystic passes in the air,
and as if she had put forth some subtle magic he stood motion-
less for a few moments, and then sank back like one whose
volition had gone. She passed her hand over his head and

24 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

down his face twice. He shuddered as if convulsed, but
otherwise remained motionless and statue-like. The charmer
then drew from her pocket a little book, and with a gold
pencil began to write down something that he was saying.

This strange scene lasted for about ten minutes. Then
Madame rose and departed silently, save for the rustle of her
silken skirts. For some time the man sat in a heap and
motionless. He might have been frozen into the stony
stillness of death ; but at last the influence of the spell passed,
and with another convulsive shudder and a muffled cry he fell
on his iace on the sward. Stokes emerged from his hiding-
place, and kneeling down examined him, and as he seemed
to be in a faint, Stokes hurried away, and procuring brandy
returned to find Fenton partly revived and sitting up.

* I beg your pardon, sir,' said the man ; ^ but I found you
lying here, and thinking you were ill I hurried for some
brandy. Here it is.'

* Thank you, thank you,' answered Fenton, and seizing
the glass with a nervous clutch he tossed the potent liquid
down his throat. His face was of a ghastly pallor ; but the
moon rays falling on his eyes filled them with a strange,
unnatural, unearthly light. He staggered to his feet and,
pressing both his hands to his temples, murmured : ^God
bless my life ! How strange ! how strange ! Yes, I've
been ill ; I must have fainted. There, thank you, that will
do ! I am obliged for your attention. Please leave me ; I
wish to be alone.'

The waiter bowed and withdrew, but not far ; and,
still watching, he beheld Fenton sink into the seat once
more and bury his face in his hands, though he did not
maintain this attitude long, but, rising suddenly, he
rejoined the company, where Madame Revel was the centre
of an admiring group of friends. The hostess caught sight
of him, and hurrying to him exclaimed :

* O you truant ! wherever have you been to ? ' Then
running her eyes hurriedly over her guests, she added :
* Now then, sir, confess 1 what pretty girl have you been
flirting with ? ' But suddenly altering her tone from

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN 25

banter to alarm, she cried : * Why, man, how lU you look !
Your face is ashen. What's the matter with you ? *

* O nothing,' he said, with a ghastly laugh ; * nothing,
I assure you. Well, that is, not being very strong yet,
I think I must have been overcome by the heat of the
evening and — and feinted ; well, I fency so, for there is a
blank I can't fill in.'

* Poor boy ! poor boy ! ' murmured the hostess sym-
pathetically. *Come with me now, and I will give you
some champagne cup — it will revive you ; ' and, taking
his arm, she led him into the marquee, as the band was
beginning the strains of a strange and dreamy waltz.

The following morning Stokes, the waiter, was sum-
marily discharged as an * incompetent, clumsy, and lazy
fellow.' Fenton remained under the roof of his hostess
for three or four days, for he was ill and she had to nurse
him. In the meantime, Madame Revel had taken her
departure, and returned to her town hoiise in Sloane Street.
The morning after her return a gentleman called at her
residence and sent in his card, which bore the name
* Adolphe Copp6,' and in one corner of the card was this
sign — * * * — that is, three stars. A few minutes later he
was ushered into Madame Revel's presence. She received
him in her boudoir, and stretched forth her white, delicate
hand for him to touch. She was attired in an elegant
and costly robe. In her raven hair was a tiny red rose.
She looked singularly handsome, and her white teeth
gleamed as she smiled graciously on her visitor.

* Your name is unknown to me,' she remarked prettily,
*but you are evidently one of us. You belong to the
Brotherhood of the Three Stars ? '

* You will see I have the sign on my card,' he
answered evasively, though she did not seem to notice his
evasion.

* You have business of importance ? ' she asked, with
a shade of anxiety shedding itself over her handsome
features.

* I have, madame. The president of the Brotherhood in

26 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Paris is pleased that you have succeeded in obtaining such
valuable information from Mr. Fenton.'

^ Monsieur le Pr&ident has received the papers then ? '
she remarked quickly.

A strange and gratified expression came into her visitor's
face as he answered : ^ It seems so.'

' Ah ! that is good/ exclaimed the lady ; ' but I have done
even better. Fenton and I were guests the other night at
the house of a mutual friend at Haslemere, and I placed him
under a spell and extracted from him valuable secrets, which
I intend to convey to the president myself.'

* Yourself ? '

* Yes. I leave to-morrow evening by the Paris mail
from Victoria.'

* You are a wonderfully clever woman,' said the guest.
* You seem to have made good use of Fenton.'

She smiled sarcastically as she answered : * Poor fool —
yes. He is my tool, my slave. I have bent him to my
will — twisted him round my finger. My power over him
is tremendous.'

Again the pleased and gratified expression spread itself
over Copp6's features.

* Of that there is no doubt,' he answered. * My object
in calling on you was to say that your presence is earnestly
desired in Paris ; but you have already anticipated that by
your resolve to leave to-morrow.'

* O yes. I had determined on that,' she answered.

* Then I need not trouble you further, and my mission
ends.'

In a little while Copp^ took his departure, after some
hospitality dispensed graciously by Madame.

The following evening the lady duly drove up to Victoria
Station and was superintending the registration of her lug-
gage when a hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a stern
voice said :

* Madame Revel, I hold a warrant for your arrest.'

She turned quickly, her eyes flashing like an enraged
tigress'.

THE SPELL OF THE BLACK SIREN 27

* A warrant for my arrest ? What for ? * she demanded
haughtily.

* Firstly, on suspicion of causing the death of William
Pritchard, a cabman ; and, secondly, for having stolen
Government papers.'

She staggered a little, as if from a shock, but quickly
recovering, said with a sneer :

* You are mistaken. This is infamous. You shall pay
dearly for this insult.'

^ If I am mistaken, that is niy afiair, and I will accept
the penalty ; but I do not think I am mistaken. My name
is Vincent Trill. I am a detective. As John Stokes, the
waiter, I witnessed the scene on the lawn at Haslemere,
when by your infamous designs and arts you deprived Fenton
of his power of independent action.'

Madame looked very uneasy, and cast a momentary,
nervous glance round about, as if contemplating some means
of escape from the trap in which she had been so cleverly
caught. But Trill again touched her, and indicating two
men who stood beside him, he said :

* These are plain-clothes policemen. You would like,
perhaps, to avoid a scene.*

She took the hint, merely remarking :

* I must yield to force ; but, I repeat, you are mistaken.'
Trill and one of his men accompanied her to a cab, while

the other man was left behind to take charge of her luggage.
Trill had made a clever capture of one of the most daring
and dangerous of a band of notorious conspirators in the pay
of the French Secret Service, whose ramifications extended to
every capital of Europe. He had come to suspect Madame
by having closely shadowed Fenton, and found that he was
in the habit of regularly visiting the lady, with whom he had
become madly infetuated. On the night that he was ordered
to convey the papers to the house of the General at Hyde
Park, there is no doubt he called at Madame Revel's house
on his way in compliance with a note he had received from
her. There he and the cabman were dosed with some
subtle drug. The unfortunate cabman was included, pre-

28 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

sumably because it was deemed advisable that he and his
fare might fail into the hands of the police as * drunk and
incapable ; ' and in order to avoid a scandal, Fenton would
necessarilv have preserved silence as to his movements. In
spite of Trill's cleverness, however, Madame Revel managed
to checkmate him, but at a fearful cost. When she arrived
at Bow Street it was found that she was sufiering from ill-
ness, and before medical aid could be summoned she had
lapsed into insensibility from which nothing could arouse her,
and in four hours she had ceased to breathe. A daring and
determined woman, she had played for high stakes, and
finding herself on the losing side she had managed while
in the cab to convey a deadly drug to her lips, and thus
paid the penalty of her crimes with her life.

29

III

A STRANGE TRAGEDY

In one of the most beautiful parts of Warwickshire, within
almost a stone's throw of the banks of the classic Avon, the
Red House Farm stood. It was an old Elizabethan mansion,
and was said to have been at one time the home of Sir Geoflfrey
Dimpster, a celebrated wit in the Virgin Queen's time.
Unfortunately for himself, however, he managed to offend
her Majesty mightily by some ill-considered jest, and was
forced to fly the country. After that the house saw many
vicissitudes, and at one period was temporarily occupied by a
body of Oliver Cromwell's lambs, who cut and hacked it
nearly to pieces, and ended by a cruel crime which was quite
characteristic of these psalm-singing hypocrites. They
strung up to one of the smoke-blackened beams in the great
kitchen an old white-headed peasant, whose only o&nce
was that he had been heard to exclaim, *Grod bless the
King ! '

After that deed of darkness the mansion fell into evil
repute. A legend in connection with it says that the old
peasant's body continued to hang from the improvised gallows
until the flesh fell from the bones, and for many years after
that the skeleton swung and jangled in the blasts that flew
through the broken windows, and in itself was the cause of
another tragic event. A huntsman sought shelter in the
ruined house during the raging of a fearful storm, and enter-
ing the kitchen hurriedly, the place being in partial darkness,

30 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

he bumped against the swinging skeleton, and, the rotten rope
that held it breaking, the bones fell with a crash at his feet.
The shock was so severe that he lost his reason. After that
the house got a worse reputation than ever, and there was a
talk of razing it to the ground ; but ultimately a buyer came
forward in the person of a builder from Warwick, who
bought the place for an old song with the intention of
utilising the timber and other materials of which it was built.
But, singularly enough, a week after he had completed his
purchase, he was going over the house in order to make a
survey of it, and was in the act of descending one of the
stairways when a stair, rotten with age and damp, gave way
under him, and, pitching head foremost, he fell down the
whole flight and broke his neck.

As may be imagined, the tragic occurrence invested the
accursed place with a new horror, and for another long series
of years it stood a blackened wreck and ruin amidst the most
glorious surroundings, when it passed into the hands by
purchase of a Mr. George Rutland, who was an extensive
landowner and farmer in Warwickshire and Herefordshire.
This gentleman at once set to work to purge it of its evil
reputation by restoring it and adapting it to the requirements
of a modern farmhouse, and it became known far and wide
as the Red House Farm. At the time of the events I am
now about to record, the Red House Farm was in the pos-
session of a Mr. Tom Hepworth Rutland, a lineal descendant
of George Rutland. Tom Rutland had resided in India for
some years, and at one time had been in the service of the
Honourable East India Company. While quite a young man
he had married the daughter of an Indian Civil servant, who
bore him two children. Soon after the last child was born,
Mr. Rutland received an intimation from England that, by
the death of a relative, he had become entitled to certain
property, including the Red House Farm. On receiving
this news he at once left India with his wife and family.
He was still a young man, being under thirty, and his wife
was still younger. Mrs. Rutland, who had been born in
India, had never visited England before. About two years

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 31

after the young people had settled down on their property,
the Red House Farm once more became the scene of a very
extraordinary tragic event, which for a time caused intense
excitement throughout the county, and the popular belief
in the ill-luck of the house was revived. And ultimately
this event was the means of bringing Vincent Trill upon the
scene.

Mr. and Mrs. Rutland had had in their service a young
lady named Hester Gilroy, who occupied the position of
nursery governess. She was about nineteen or twenty
years of age, and exceedingly good-looking. As was
subsequently disclosed. Miss Hester Gilroy unwittingly led
to dissension between the husband and wife. The lady
accused her husband of neglecting her and paying too much
attention to the pretty governess, and matters became so
unpleasant that at last Mr. Rutland sent Miss Gilroy away.
Then apparently the wife repented, and begged her husband
to bring the governess back again, as the children were
fretting for her. This request was granted, and Miss Hester
Gilroy was reinstated in her former position. Three months
passed, when early one April morning a gardener going
through the grounds was horrified at discovering the body
of a young woman lying on the gravel path at the back of
the house. She was in her night clothes, her feet and legs
being bare ; and from the feet that a bedroom window above
where she was lying was wide open, the conjecture was she
had fellen out. The man of course raised an alarm at once,
and the body proved to be that of Miss Gilrov. The first
supposition of accident seemed to be confirmed by an
examination of her room. The door was locked, and had to
be burst open. It was then seen that the bed had been used,
but for some inscrutable reason the young lady had got up,
and either thrown herself out or tumbled from the window.
It was an old-feshioned casement window and opened out-
wards, and the height from the ground was about thirty
feet. The theory was, the night being unusually warm for
the time of year, that Miss Gilroy had got up to open her
window to admit fresh air, when, probably attracted by the

32 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

singing of some nightingales in a grove hard by — the'whole
neighbourhood was renowned for nightingsJes — she had
leant out and overbalanced herself.

That was all very well and all feasible enough until
the doctors came to examine the body. They were then
confronted with some rather startling fects. With the
exception of two of the fingers on the left hand no bones
were broken. There was no fracture of the skull, though
the face was disfigured by coming in contact with the
gravel. The fingers had no doubt been broken by the fall,
but that was not sufficient to account for death. Under
these circumstances it became necessary to make a post-
mortem examination. It was then discovered that the poor
girl would have experienced the pangs of maternity in the
course of a few months. Certain appearances in the stomach
and other organs of the body aroused the suspicions of the
medical men who had been requested to carry out the
autopsy, and they expressed an opinion that Miss Gilroy had
not lost her life by felling from the window, but had been
poisoned, and then thrown out. It was a case, not of
accident, but suicide or murder. If suicide, she must have
taken poison first and then thrown herself out, or struggled
to the casement for air and feUen out.

It was but natural, having regard to the girl's condition,
that the opinion should incline to suicide. It was subse^
quently proved beyond doubt that she had died from a most
powerfiil vegetable poison, but what it was could not be de-
termined. It was not a poison apparently included in the
* British Pharmacopoeia.' A most careful search of the room
and her belongings feiled to discover a vestige of poison of
any kind, and the mystery deepened. The girl's friends,
including her fether and mother, and sister and brother,
averred that she was of the most cheerful disposition, and
not in the least likely under any circumstances to take her
own life. Amongst a bundle of letters found in one of her
boxes were three or four from Mr. Tom Hepworth Rutland.
They were simply signed * Tom,' but the handwriting he
admitted was his. The one which had the most importance

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 33

as bearing on the case had been hastily written in pencil,
and was thus worded :

*You must bear up and be cheerful. We will think
out a plan. Something will have to be done : what, I don't
know at this moment. If our secret were to leak out it
would mean for me black disaster and ruin. At all costs
that must be averted. I rely on your silence, your discre-
tion, your love. The past cannot be recalled ; but we must
so shape our conduct in the future as to avoid arousing
suspicion. How would you like to go to India ? I have
some friends there who would look after you, and your
relatives might be led to believe that you had received an
appointment as a governess. Think it over and be sure you
burn this letter.

* Tom.'

The request to burn the letter appeared in each of them,
but Miss Gilroy, like most young women under similar
circumstances, ignored the request, and documentary evidence
of a very unpleasant character was thus furnished against
Mr. Tom Hepworth Rutland, and strong and severe were
the unkind things said about him.

The coroner's inquiry into the cause of the girl's death
was adjourned from week to week for some time, in the
hope that evidence might be forthcoming which would
serve to clear up the mystery, but nothing cropped up,
nothing was discovered to justify the jury returning a
verdict of either murder or suicide ; and so, after a very
exhaustive inquiry indeed, the verdict was that ^ The
deceased came by her death through poison, but how the
poison was administered there was no evidence to show/

This is what is known as ^ an open verdict,' and leaves
the course clear for any future action. It is perhaps needless
to say that the feeling against Mr. Rutland throughout the
county was very strong, and thoughtless and stupid people
did not hesitate to accuse him of having destroyed the girl.
The sad end to the young and promising life was a source
of keen anguish to her friends, who were all highly fespect-

34 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

able people, and they considered it was their duty to use
every legitimate means in their power to discover who was
responsible for her death, as they resolutely declined to
entertain for a moment the theory of suicide. It thus came
about that Trill was called in and requested to exert his
skill in trying to unravel the mystery.

Of course, the relations between Mr. Rutland and his
wife not only became very strained, but led to open rupture,
and as she was a very fiery and impulsive woman she did
not spare him ; and notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of
friends and relatives, she resolved to leave him, and with her
children went to reside in London. Mr. Rutland thus
found himself in most distressful circumstances, as his
servants, sharing the common feeling, left in a body, and he
had to import people to carry on the farm.

It must be stated here that Rutland, from the very first,
solemnly and stoutly protested his innocence. He confessed
that he had been enamoured of Miss Gilroy, but there his sin
ended, and he declared that in spite of the tremendous feeling
against him he should stand his ground, for he was confident
that some day the truth would come out. He went further
than this even, and offered a reward of five hundred pounds
for any information that would tend to clear up the mystery
and establish his own innocence.

All this — the reward, his protestations, his assertions —
had little or no influence. The prevailing opinion was that
his motive for destroying the unhappy young lady was so
strong that his hand alone must have administered the fatal
draught.

It was a terrible position for a man to be placed in.
The shadow upon him was the shadow of a cruel and
dastardly crime, and not only was he shunned, but the Red
House Farm was now regarded as a house doubly accursed.
He had the greatest difficulty in selling his produce, and
equal difficulty in getting servants to remain. But in spite
of everything he boldly held his ground, and people under
their breath spoke of him as * a cool, calculating, heartless
villain.* It is interesting to record Vincent Trill's opinion.

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 35

He says that Rutland was a gentlemanly, fascinating man,
with a courteous bearing, and an air of irankness that was
very impressive, and Trill himself, although he did not say
so then, came to the conclusion that Rutland was not a
murderer.

The case was one which was certainly shrouded in the
deepest mystery, and seldom had Trill been placed at such a
disadvantage, for when he commenced his investigations
weeks had passed from the day of the deed, and it seemed
hopeless to expect that at that late period any clue would
be obtained.

It has been stated that the poison which had caused Miss
Gilroy's death was unknown in British pharmacy, and a
good deal of discussion took place on the subject in the
public press, and many were the opinions, some rational,
some stupid, others outrageous, that were expressed. The
analysis that had been made by the Government analyst had
quite failed to determine or class the poison beyond a vague
generalisation which in effect pronounced it a vegetable
alkaloid which had produced rapid death by corrosion of the
mucous membrane and paralysis of the heart.

At the time of the Red House Farm tragedy very
much less was known of vegetable poisons than at the
present day, and though during the last thirty years the
science of toxicology has made rapid strides, the vegetable
kingdom is still capable of furnishing life-destroying proper-
ties which can defy even modern science.

In endeavouring to solve the complicated problem that
was presented to him. Trill left no detail unexamined, and
in particular he bestowed much attention on the fact of the
locked door. It was stated in evidence, and proof to
substantiate it was forthcoming, that Miss Gilroy's bedroom
door was found locked and had to be burst open. But
there was one point which, singularly enough, was not
cleared up, indeed it was not mentioned at all. That was
as to whether or not the key was on the inside of the lock.
The obvious inference to be drawn from this point not
having been dwelt upon at the inquest was that it was not

D 2

36 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

considered of any importance. Vincent Trill, however,
took a very different view, and considered the matter of vital
interest. The man who burst open the door was the
gardener who found the girl's body on the gravel path.
He was a man of about fifty years of age, very typical of his
class, but with the observant faculties highly developed.
Having a very comfortable position in Mr. Rutland's employ,
with good wages, and a snug cottage to live in, and being
a widower with two grown-up daughters, both of them in
service, he had not allowed himself to be influenced by
the excitement of the hour, nor the common prejudice, and
had kept his situation. He was naturally a reticent man,
but he positively asserted to Trill that when he broke
open the door he noticed that the key was not in the lock.
The man could give no particular reason why he gave
attention to this matter, when everyone else was engrossed
with the main subject — the girl's death. It was his habit,
he said, to notice small things. In answer to Trill's inquiry
as to what his opinion was about the affair, he shrugged in
a singularly impressive manner, which indicated, as plainly
as such an action could indicate, that he shared the popular
belief about his master, but wasn't such a fool as to cut his
nose off* to spite his face. He had a good berth, and
intended to keep it.

^ I has my own opinions,' he said in words, ^ but I keeps
*em to myself.'

Trill next directed his inquiries into other quarters,
with a view to determining whether anyone had seen the
key, and what had become of it. However, no information
was forthcoming. Nobody had seen the key ; nobody had
thought about it.

Now, it was self-evident to anyone who looked at the
matter with a logical inquisitiveness, that if the door had
been locked from the inside the key would have been in the
lock. At least the chances were a thousand to one on it,
for if Miss Gilroy had locked her door on retiring, it was
difficult for anyone to frame a theory which would rationally
have accounted for her removing the key. Therefore the

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 37

deduction was that the door had been locked from the out-
side, and if that was so, whoever locked the door murdered
Miss Gilroy.

Trill had very carefully weighed all the evidence in
favour of suicide, and all the evidence against it, and to his
mind there seemed an overwhelming preponderance of
conclusions to be drawn which tended to negative the
suicide theory. Let us see how he worked them out.
Firstly, the girl's bed had been occupied. By whom ?
Presumably by the girl herself. Secondly, she was in her
night clothes when found. That conclusively proved that
she had retired for the night. Thirdly, she had been with
the children up to half-past nine on the night of her death.
On leaving them she partook of a very light supper in the
kitchen, as was her habit, and then retired, and nobody had
seen her alive again. At break of day — say a little before
six — her body was found on the gravel path beneath the
window. The medical evidence testified that when found
she had been dead some hours, and she had not been killed
by the jfall, but in all probability was dead when she fell or
was thrown from the window. If she had poisoned herself,
why did she go to the window ? The probable answer to
this is, having taken the fatal dose, she repented, and in her
death agony struggled to the window to get air and so over-
balanced. But let it be remembered that if she was in the
death agony she would hardly have had the physical power
to struggle to the window. Moreover, the sill of the
window was four feet two inches from the floor of the room,
therefore even a tall person would have to lean pretty
hr out to overbalance. Miss Gilroy was not tall ; she was
below the medium height, and of light build.

Having decided in his own mind that the case was one
of murder. Trill carried out his investigations accordingly,
and he endeavoured in every possible way to account for the
key mystery. What had become of the key ? That was a
question that had to be answered in order to get a clue to
the murder. Another obscure point that had to be cleared
up was the method and medium by which the poison had

38 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

been administered. She had partaken of her supper in the
kitchen between half-past nine and ten. The supper con-
sisted of a glass of milk and a slice of brown bread and
butter. It was stated at the inquest that these things were
given to her by the cook, and she partook of them in
the presence of the cook, who at the same time had some
iJeer and cheese. The cook swore that she poured the
glass of milk from a large jug that was full. The rest of
the milk was consumed bv the family with no ill effects.
Consequently, the milk hadn't been poisoned. The cook
further stated that Miss Gilroy was in the best of spirits and
unusually cheerful when she went upstairs to bed. It
followed, therefore, that she took the poison after she
reached her bedroom. On the first blush that favoured the
theory of suicide, but when it was looked into there was
nothing to justify such a theory. Trill's own theory was
this : Miss Gilroy had gone to bed and fallen asleep. The
murderer then entered the room, either by means of a &lse
key, or because the door was unlocked. If the latter, he
must have taken the precaution to previously remove the
key from the door. Probably the girl, not finding the key
there, did not concern herself much about it, if at all. The
crime having been committed, the criminal stealthily with-
drew, having first thrown the body from the window,
thereby thinking the case would be considered one of
suicide. So it might have been had there been a fractured
skull or dislocated neck. The absence of external causes
of death had led to the post-mortem, and the post-mortem
had revealed the presence of poison. When the poisoner
had done his horrid work he locked the door after him,
thinking that he was thus carefully guarding himself
against all possibility of detection. But it was a blunder.
It would have been better to have left the door unlocked.

Trill inquired of those most likely to know if Miss
Gilroy was a sound sleeper, and it did not surprise him to
be told that she was an unusually sound sleeper. On one
occasion a nursemaid, when the house happened to be over-
crowded with visitors, slept with Miss Gilroy for several

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 39

nights, and to use this girl's expressive phrase, ^ You might
have fired a cannon over the young lady's head when once
she was sound asleep, and it wouldn't have wakened her.'
This infornution led Trill to consult the celebrated authority
on poisons, the late Sir George Arthur Meldrum, as to
whether it was possible or not to administer poison to a
person sleeping soundly. The answer was that a person
who slept soundly generally slept with the mouth open.
Now, supposing such a person to be lying on his back, a
subtle and potent poison might be dropped into the mouth,
when there would in all probability be an autoniatic and
involuntary action of the muscles of the throat which would
cause the poison to be swallowed. This opinion of so
eminent an authority confirmed Trill in the opinion he had
come to, that the girl had been poisoned in her sleep. Sir
George also stated, in reply to a further question, that he
believed the vegetable kingdom was capable of furnishing
poisons so powerful as to produce almost instant insensibility
when swallowed. Granted that all this was something more
than mere theory. Trill felt convinced that he had discovered
the whole plan of the dark deed, and whoever the guilty
person was, his nature was cruel, cold, calculating, and
diabolical.

Having reached this stage in his investigations, Vincent
Trill now turned to motive. Apparently the one person
who, above all others, had the strongest motive, was Tom
Hepworth Rutland. There could be no denying that on
the face of it. And yet Trill did not believe Rutland
was guilty. The reasons for this belief were rather of a
complex character, but, broadly put, they resulted from the
marvellous intuitive faculty whereby the detective was
enabled to form almost unerring judgments from the manner
of a person and the expression of the face. He held staimchly
to the theory that a person having guilty knowledge was
bound to betray himself by outward and visible signs under
circumstances fevourable to this betrayal. The thing was
to be able to read and understand the signs, and that Trill
undoubtedly could do. He laid no claim to be considered

40 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

iniallible, but he had great faith in his own judgment and
deductions, and that faith was justified by his many successes.
Of course he did not always succeed in the tasks he under-
took. But where he failed the chances are other men
would have failed also. So far, then, the theory he had
constructed was this : The guilty person stole into the
sleeping girl's room, poured a few drops of a frightfully
deadly poison into her mouth, and when the fiendish act
was completed by the death of the victim, the body was
dropped from the window, the door locked, and the key
carried off. Mr. Hepworth Rutland had certainly a motive
for the crime, but Trill considered him innocent, and
turned his attention to another person who had a greater
motive, and was moved by a passion which is responsible for
some of the most awful crimes in human history. Trill up
to this stage had conducted his inquiry and investigation
in the quiet, unobtrusive, and insidious manner which was
natural to him, and he had devoted a fortnight of earnest
thought and study to it. His next move now was to have
another interview with Hepworth Rutland, who, in spite
of the courage and resolution he had displayed, had felt his
position keenly, as was evinced by his haggard, careworn
face. During the bitter weeks that had passed since the
fatal night he had aged years in appearance. He anxiously
inquired of Trill if he had come to any conclusion in the
matter, but Trill evaded the question by saying :

* It is never safe to speak positively from mere conjec-
ture. But I want to ask you a question ; in fact, several.
Firstly, you were very fond of Miss Gilroy ? '

* Frankly and honestly, I was. It is no use my at-
tempting to disguise the fact. Of course the world will
condemn me for it, but I cannot help it, I don't know
that I even care. The lady I married was not suited to me,
or I was not suited to her, whichever way you like to put
it. My wife was cold, unsympathetic, as incapable of dis-
playing an emotion as she was of expressing a sentiment.
What she lacked, and what I craved for, I found in Miss
Gilroy. Of course, according to the laws of society as it is

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 41

constituted, my love for Miss Gilroy was an outrage and a
crime. Very well. I confess my sin. I bow to those
laws, but if 1 might be permitted to put in a tiny plea of
justification, it would be that I am human. Although I
had a wife I was compelled by her cold nature to lead a
lonely life, so to speak. I think she came to regard me
rather as her servant than her husband. She was a peculiarly
exacting woman, and by her own conduct drove me into
the arms of Miss Gilroy.*

* All that is mere ex parte^ answered Trill. * No doubt
Mrs. Rutland would have a different story to tell.'

*Not the slightest doubt, and yet I speak truthfully.
But let that pass. I accept all the penalty, all the odium
attaching to my wrong-doing. The penalty is certainly a
very heavy one, for while I am far from being an old man I
feel that the shadow that has fallen upon me will render my
life henceforth one of gloom and misery. Indeed, I feel as
if I had nothing to live for.'

* Of course you are sincerely desirous of clearing up the
mystery surrounding the death of Miss Gilroy ? '

* Unquestionably I am.'

* Are you inclined now to believe that she committed
suicide ? '

* I cannot bring myself to think she did.'

* But you admit the possibility of it ? '

* Yes, the possibility only.'

* Not the probability ? '
*No.'

* Why not ? '

* She had a strong love of life. She was of a singularly
bright and cheerful disposition ; and I don't believe that
even the knowledge of what the near future held for her
would have tempted her to so rash a deed.'

* Then, as you scout the idea of suicide you must believe
in that of murder ? '

* Undoubtedly I do.'

* And have you ever tried to think who the person is or
was who committed the crime ? '

42 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

^ I have/ answered Rutland hesitatingly.

* Do you feel yourself free to give a name to the
person ? '

^ No/ Rutland said, after a considerable pause, ^ I do
not. The law has endeavoured to discover the person, and
failed. The law has suspected me, and its suspicion still
rests upon me. Supposing, therefore, I were to rise up as
an accuser, who would believe, unless I had the most irre-
fragable proof, and where can I get the proof ? I may sus-
pect, I may feel certain, but without proof I am helpless.'

* Supposing, Mr. Rutland,' said Trill gravely, * I give
shape to your thoughts, and a name to the person you
suspect ? '

Rutland appeared to be startled. His pale face in-
creased in pallor, and his eyes fixed themselves on Trill
with an acuteness of gaze which indexed something of the
thoughts that were passing through his mind.

* Well,' he almost gasped in a peculiarly raucous voice,
* well, whom do you suspect ? '

* Your wife.'

Rutland, who was seated at a table, let his head fall
upon his arms, and groaned. Then he quickly raised him-
self, and asked in great agitation :

* Why do you suspect my wife ? '

* Hadn't she a powerful motive ? *

* What motive ? '

* Jealousy.'

Rutland made no reply, but buried his face again.

* It's a terrible thing, of course,' continued Trill, * for
a man in your position to have to think his wife guilty of
so foul and horrible a crime. But jealousy drives women
to madness, and you must remember that you gave your
wife legitimate cause for jealousy.' Rutland groaned again,
but could not speak. * Of course,' Trill went on, * however
dreadful it may be to contemplate the result of these
suspicions of mine being well founded, the law cannot
be hoodwinked. It is certainly singular that though you
have been, and are still, suspected, not the slightest shadow

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 43

of suspicion has feUen on your wife. She has been com-
miserated with, and regarded as a deeply injured woman.
Perhaps,' added Trill, with a certain dryness which passed
unnoticed, * perhaps, however, I am doing a wrong in
suspecting her, for I haven't an atom of proof. I am search-
ing for proof, but may never find it. But I should like
to examine your wife's rooms, and anything she may have
left behind her.'

Rutland rose like a man in a dream, and his haggard
face was pitiable. He drew from his pocket a large key
and laid it on the table, saying in a hollow voice :

* That is the key of her room. I locked the place up
when she went, and have never been in since. She took
her departure abruptly and hurriedly, and I believe there
are still some of her clothes in the wardrobe, and a box in
the room, though what the box contains I haven't the
remotest idea. It has no interest for me. She has inspired
me with such a strong feeling of dislike that I do not wish
to see anything that can recall my unpleasant recollections
of her.'

The painful interview ended, and Trill proceeded at
once to Mrs. Rutland's room. It was a very large apart-
ment, with a boudoir leading out of it. There was
evidence of the place having remained absolutely un-
disturbed since the lady's departure, for there were some
shreds of paper on the carpet, some hairpins on the dressing-
table, and hair combings in a cardboard receptacle hanging
at the side of a large looking-glass. In a wardrobe hung
two or three dressing-gowns, a dress or two, and other
articles of feminine attire ; and in one corner of the room
was a large, old-fashioned leather trunk.

Trill began his examination very systematically. He
scrutinised the carpet, going down on his hands and knees
for the purpose. He turned down the bedclothes and
turned them up again. Then he took out the various
garments from the wardrobe and inspected them very care-
fully one by one. One of the dressing-gowns was made
of merino of a very delicate lavender colour, lined with

44 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

amber silk. In the pocket of this gown was a key, the
key of a door. As Trill drew it forth and held it between
himself and the light, the better to examine it, his dreamy
eyes for once lost their dreamy expression, and grew
brilliant with excitement. Before another five minutes
had elapsed he tried that key in the door of the late Miss
Gilroy's room, and found that it fitted. He might be
pardoned if at that supreme moment he experienced a
thrill of conscious pride as he felt that his reasoning had
not led him astray, and that he had tracked his quarry as a
well-trained bloodhound tracks his.

In a legal sense, of course, the evidence afi&rded by
this key might have been regarded as so slender that unless
with other things it would not be allowed to count. But
Trill had not finished yet. He noticed on the left cuflF of
the sleeve some rather striking yellowish stains, as though a
corrosive liquid had been splashed or spilt on the material.
So he put that gown carefully on one side, and turned his
attention to the box. There seemed to be nothing of
importance in this box. Some old shoes and slippers, a pair
of corsets, a quantity of old linen, and two or three old
petticoats. At the bottom of the trunk was a carved
Indian sandal-wood cabinet with two tiny drawers in it.
These drawers had to be forced open, as they were locked.
But the task was an easy one, for the fastenings were very
flimsy. In one of the drawers was a packet of brown
powder, which gave forth a faint, sickly odour. Very
carefully indeed Trill folded up the packet again, and then
tied it in another wrapper, and proceeded with his investi-
gation, but brought nothing else to light of a suspicious
character. The packet of powder and the dressing-gown
were in due course submitted to an eminent chemist for
examination, and ultimately he reported that the powder
was the extract of a plant, but that he knew of no plant in
Great Britain that would yield such a powder. It was
probably procured from some Indian herb. Its properties
were of a very deadly character. The powder dissolved
readily in alcohol, and a few drops were sufficient to kill

A STRANGE TRAGEDY 45

rabbits in two or three minutes. When some of it was
sprinkled on the dressing-gown it produced stains identical
with those on the sleeve. After various experiments the
conclusion he came to was that a dessert-spoonful or less of
this preparation introduced into the human stomach would
bring about death almost as rapidly as prussic acid.

Now, what was the deduction from this important dis-
covery ? Could it be other than that Mrs. Rutland was a
murderess i She was known to be of an extremely jealous
disposition, and a woman of strong will and determination.
It was feasible to suppose that she had allowed her jealousy
to rankle until it inflamed her blood, and made her regard-
less of the sanctity of human life. It is equally feasible that
after Miss Gilroy had been discharged, Mrs. Rutland found
or suspected that her husband was still keeping up the
connection. Then it occurred to the wretched woman to
take the girl back again, with the deliberate intent of
destroying her when opportunity occurred. Having been
born in India, and having spent nearly the whole of her
life there, she would have some knowledge of the deadly
poisons used by the natives of that country as a means of
silently getting rid of their enemies. Her cold, deliberate
planning of the crime, and the pitiless and cunning way in
which it was carried out, proclaimed her to be a woman of
a remorseless and fiendishly vindictive disposition. And so
artfully had the whole scheme of the crime been arranged
and carried out that, but for a blunder or two, it might
easily have been classed as a suicide, and, as it was, might
have remained for ever undetected but for the marvellous
skill of Vincent Trill.

Although the presumptive evidence of Mrs. Rutland's
guilt was very strong, it had yet to be established legally,
and a warrant was issued for her arrest, but that warrant
was never executed. In keeping with the cunning she had
all along displayed, she had secretly left London, taking her
children with her. Every possible means at the disposal of
the police were used to trace her whereabouts, but they all
failed. There was a suspicion — but it remained a suspicion

46 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

only — that her husband had not only warned her of her
danger, but had supplied her with ample funds, and as
she was a resourceful, self-dependent, and strong-minded
woman, she would know how to take care of herself. Now,
whether this suspicion was or was not well founded, the
fact remained ttmt Mrs. Rutland and her children dis-
appeared, as it were, into space, and poor Miss Gilroy's
cruel murder remains to the present day unavenged.

The terrible tragedy and its collateral consequences so
affected Mr. Hepworth Rutland that his mind became
unhinged, and it was necessary to place him under restraint.

The evil reputation of the Red House Farm was
strengthened by the events recorded in this story, and
though the place was in the market for years neither a
purchaser nor a tenant could be found. Ultimately it was
pulled down and a church erected on the site.

Note bv the Author. — It may be interesting to
state that the poison which undoubtedly destroyed Miss
Gilroy's life was subsequently identified and classed, al-
though owing to its deadly nature it is never used in
medical practice. It is the produce of a plant which grows
rankly in the Indian swamps, and has probably been known
to the natives for centuries, for secret poisoning has been a
crime common in India from time immemorial.

47

IV
AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY

One morning — it was early in September — Vincent Trill had
retired after breakfast to his sanctum to read his correspond-
ence and glance over the daily papers. It was his habit
when at home to spend an hour at least in this seclusion^
and the members of his household had orders not to dis-
turb him unless exceptional circumstances necessitated it. On
this particular morning he had scarcely settled himself when
there was a gentle rap at his door, and as he allowed the
rap to pass unnoticed it was repeated with vigour and a
certain peremptoriness which seemed to in.dicate a message
of importance, so he sang out * Come in,* and when the
door swung open the parlourmaid stood on the threshold
with a card in her hand.

* A gentleman, sir, wishes to see you. I told him that
you were engaged, but he said he had come a long way, and
must see you.'

* Who is it, do you know ? '

* Here is his card, sir.'

Trill took the card and read :

Montague Fairfax Green, M.D.,

F.R.C.P.

Bed Bank,
Dorchester.

^^o

48 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

On the top, over the name, was written in pencil,
* Business of a very urgent character.'

*Show the gentleman up, Annie,' was Trill's order,
and Annie retired to do his bidding. A few minutes later
she returned, and ushered in a grave, professional-looking
gentleman, attired in the conventional frock-coat, and hold-
ing in his gloved hands a highly polished hat. He was
slightly above medium height, with a thoughtful earnest
&ce, his deep-set blue eyes thrown into relief by a slight
fringe of silvery whisker. Save for this whisker his face was
clean shaven, and the well-shaped mouth, and the lines about
it, clearly indicated great force of character, but the general
expression was one of a benevolent and kindly disposition.
Although there was no sign of baldness his hair was
decidedly grey, and yet he could not have been more than
fifty.

^ I must apologise for thus intruding upon you, Mr.
Trill,' he said, as he placed his hand upon the table, and
began to slowly pull off his gloves with that deliberate
gravity characteristic of the country practitioner. As he
stretched the gloves, drew them through his left hand, and
dropped them into his hat, he took the seat which Trill
indicated. * The fact is, I have come up from Dorchester
on purpose to see you, and as it is important that I should
return to-day, as I have left no locum tenens to attend to
my patients, I have been compelled to call on you thus
early.'

Vincent Trill bowed.

* What can I have the pleasure of doing for you. Dr.
Green ? ' he asked.

* The errand upon which I have come is a delicate and
a peculiar one, and I shall have to take you into my con-
fidence to a considerable extent, that is, if I am not wrong
in assuming that you will not be indisposed to aid me
with your professional services.'

* My services are at your disposal, D^. Green ; providing
time and other arrangements are favourable.'

* Well, then, perhaps I had better ask you if you can

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 49

accompany me back to Dorchester to-day, or go down
within the next three days ? '

Trill consulted his diary, and announced that he could
go to Dorchester within the ensuing three days, providing
he was not likely to be detained long.

^ It is difficult for me to say how long you may be de-
tained,' said the doctor. * Let me tell you, however, what
the business is. As you will see by my card, I am a
medical man, and in practice in Dorchester, where I have
resided for nearly twenty-five years. Amongst my patients
at present is a young lady in whom I am deeply interested.
She is an orphan, and entitled to a large fortune when she
comes of age in two years* time. She is now under the care
of a widowed aunt, who is her legally appointed guardian,
and she lives with this aunt and a male and female cousin
in a curious old house — part of the girl's property —
known as " the Grange," which is situated in a lonely spot
in the suburbs of Dorchester. For a long time I have been
treating this young lady for a nervous a£Fection, which often
takes the form of acute hysteria. Without giving my
reasons at present for so thinkings I have come to the
conclusion that the poor girl's illness in its present form is
superinduced by some wicked design, for she declares that
she is haunted, and that spectres and visions keep her in sl
constant state of terror. In most cases this might be
taken as a sign of insanity, but I am convinced it is not
so in this instance. My patient is a victim of a cruel and
wicked design.'

* With what purpose in view ? ' asked Trill.

* In the event of the girl's death before she is twenty-
one, the property to which she is heiress will pass to
others.'

* Is her life in danger ? '

* Unquestionably so, for she cannot long bear up against
the strain, and may even be driven to laying violent
hands on herself in order to put an end to the misery she
now endures.'

' What is the young lady's name ? '

Z

so RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

^ Edith Constance Stanmore. She is a descendant of
an old and honoured femily. The Stanmores have distin-
guished themselves in the professions as well as in the army
and navy. Miss Edith's father was a General Stanmore,
and her mother was the renowned beauty, Lady Hester
Morgan. The Morgans were a Welsh family, even more
ancient than the Stanmores.'

* This is very interesting,' remarked Trill ; * but may I
ask if you suspect the aunt of having designs on the girl's
life ? '

The visitor looked troubled by the question, and
hesitated before answering.

* Frankly I do,' he answered at last. ^ Of course, you
will respect the confidence I repose in you. The aunt is
a Mrs. Catherine Staffler, the widow of a captain in the
merchant service, who was drowned at sea. The lady was,
I believe, at one time, on the stage, though her father was
a clergyman. She has one son, about four-and-twenty, and
a daughter about the same age as Miss Stanmore. In the
event of the niece's death, Mrs. Staffier would inherit the
property.*

*That suggests a very strong motive, of course, for
getting the girl out of the way,' said Trill. ^But now
tell me, Dr. Green, what are your grounds for taking so
serious a view of the situation as to suppose that this lady
has designs on your patient's life ? '

*I am aware it is a serious view,' replied the doctor
thoughtfully, * but without going into details you may safely
accept my assurance that unless I had had good reasons for
my suspicions I should not have made a special journey to
see you. The case is not an ordinary one, and does not
yield to the treatment usually adopted. Last year I
ordered her abroad, and she and her aunt and cousins
travelled through Switzerland. At first Miss Stanmore
greatly improved, but tovrards the end of the tour, and
while they were all staying in a very out-of-the-way place in
the mountains, she was nearly frightened into madness by a
visitation, which was not a matter of imagination on her

i

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY st

part, and from what she has told me I am sure it was a
cruel trick that was played upon her, though she does not
think so. She had to be brought home by slow stages ;
and when she arrived her nerves seemed to be utterly
shattered, and since then she has been a prey to torturing
terror, which, I am convinced, will have a disastrous ending
before long. The difficulty, then, would be to prove guilty
design on the part of anyone. Whereas now, if my sus-
picions can be proved to be well founded, we can save the
unhappy girl's life by removing her from the sphere of
bane^l influence which is being exercised over her.'

* Yes ; I see it in that light,' answered Trill j ^ but I
agree with you that the matter is a difficult and delicate one.
Should it leak out that you suspect Mrs. Staffler of having
designs on her niece's life, and you fail to justify yourself, it
would be a serious matter for you.'

^ It would indeed. It would practically mean pro-
fessional ruin, for Mrs. Staffler has great influence in the
neighbourhood, and is a spiteful and vindictive woman.
But do you think, Mr. Trill, that I look like a man who is
likely to endanger his professional reputation by so serious
a suggestion unless I felt convinced I had good grounds
for it?'

* No, I can't say that you do,' answered Trill.
^Physically, Miss Stanmore has always been a strong

girl,' continued the doctor, ^ for I have known her from
her childhood. It was soon after her mother's death
three years ago, and on her declining resolutely to marry
her cousin, George Staffler, that she first betrayed symptoms
of nervous terror. I was not called in for some time
after that, and from the first I felt puzzled about the case,
but it is only recently I have begun to suspect the cause.'

With the quick decision characteristic of him. Trill
told his visitor that he was willing to go down to Dorchester
and inquire into the matter, whereupon Dr. Green, who
was profuse in his thanks, said :

* Then there is one little detail which will have to be
arranged. I think I am justified in describing what I am

E2

52 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

going to suggest as a pious fraud. I consider it of the
highest importance that you should see and question Miss
Stanmore yourself. But Mrs. Staffler is lynx-eyed, and if
she is guilty of the wicked designs I lay to her charge she
would take means to frustrate any attempt to checkmate.
You see that, don't you ? '
' I do.'

* Very well then ; the stratagem I suggest is this — you
shall impersonate for the time being a London consulting
physician. I told Mrs. Staffler a few days ago that I was
so puzzled about the case that I should like to call in the'
services of a London specialist. Of course she readily
consented, for in her cunning she is all anxiety to create a
belief that she is deeply concerned about her niece. She
knows that if she aroused suspicion it would be fatal to her
plans and involve her in serious consequences.'

* She has no doubt, then, about your bona fide%y doctor ? *

* None whatever.'

* Well, the only difficulty I see about the matter,*
continued Trill, * is the rdle of physician you wish me to
assume.'

* The end surely justifies the means,' urged the doctor
strenuously. *If a cruel and diabolical murder is being
committed, any plan, surely, is pardonable that is calculated
to save the victim.'

* I admit the cogency of your argument, and in three
days from now will meet you at your residence in Dor-
chester.'

Dr. Green seemed greatly relieved as he shook Trill's
hand with an indication of deep gratitude, and took his
departure.

In accordance with the arrangement, Vincent Trill
found himself at the end of three days in the quaint old town
of Dorchester, and the guest of Dr. Green. In order to
keep up the character he had undertaken to assume he had
for the nonce donned a beard and moustache, and had
clothed himself in the conventional frock-coat. The next
morning, Mrs. Staffler having been previously notified of

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 53

their coming, he and Dr. Green drove in the latter's carriage
to the Grange, which, from its antiquity, would have
delighted the heart of the antiquary, while its magnificent
situation and picturesque surroundings would have sent an
artist into ecstasies. It was an irregular, rambling, red-
brick building, ivy-covered for the most part, with oriel
windows, a deeply recessed entrance porch, and fifteenth-
century chimney stacks. It stood on an artificial mound,
that sloped away on all sides like the glacis of a fortification ;
and there yrere indications that at some period a moat had
surrounded it. In front, and reached by a massive flight of
steps with massive stone balustrades from the main entrance,
was a lawn or bowling green, so level and smooth and green
that it could only have been brought to that state of per-
fection by generations of rolling and cutting. On all sides
stretched away well-wooded grounds, intersected with paths
and alleys, and shaded by hoary beech and oak trees. The
views over the country, which embraced watered valleys and
rolling downs, were of the most extended kind, and com-
prised all the features which go to make up a perfect
panorama. An old sun-dial on the terrace marked the hour
of day, and a very fine specimen of a peacock strutted on
the lawn in all the pride and glory of his unfolded feathers.
The place was as peaceful and dreamy as one could have
desired, and its beauty was the beauty of old time, when the
struggle for existence was not so keen as it is now. It was
difficult to associate this place with the dark shadow of
crime. It was so peaceful, so beautiful, so perfect in all its
details of picturesqueness. The air that circulated about
it was the unpolluted air of heaven ; the birds that sang in
the trees trilled songs of country freedom, of the liberty of
the wild woods.

The two gentlemen were received by Mrs. Staffler in
the drawing-room, quaintly furnished in keeping with the
character of the place, and redolent of the bunches of
flowers that stood in vases in various corners. The lady
was a tall, austere-looking woman, with a disagreeably stiff
manner, and a cutting kind of assumed politeness, which

54 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

suggested that she had the most exalted notions of her own
importance. These were the outward signs of the woman.
Her fece indicated something of her mind. The most
noticeable features were the eyes and mouth. The former
were steely-grey, deep-set, with a furtive expression ; the
mouth accorded with the eyes, the lips were thin, the chin
retreated and angular.

From the first moment of meeting her Trill was un-
favourably impressed. He was too good a student of
physiognomy to attribute a soft and tender nature to a
woman with eyes of that colour, and with those thin lips
and retreating chin. She moved with a studied grace,
and there was a certain rhythm in the clink of the silver
ornaments on her chatelaine, and in the rustle of her silken
gown. She was clearly a woman of decision and prompt-
ness. She wasted no time in unnecessarily trifling with
words and formalities. She dwelt on the * dreadful suffer-
ings ' of her ^ darling ' niece, and displayed an admirable
assumption of heart-rending distress, carrying her lace hand-
kerchief with delicate grace to her eyes to wipe away
imaginary tears. She was possessed of all the subtle art,
and knew how to exercise it, of the consummate actress.

This preliminary interview over, Dr. Green and his
companion were conducted upstairs to a charming room
most tastefully furnished, and commanding from its oriel
window a wide sweep of hill and dale. Two young ladies —
who were occupying themselves with some fancy needle-
work — rose as the men entered. One was Miss Beryl
StafHer, her companion Edith Constance Stanmore. After
a few words of greeting with the doctor, Miss Staffler left
the room, and Dr. Green then presented his patient to Trill.
She was a well-formed, pretty girl, with a quantity of soft
fair hair ; but her face was almost a study in horror. Intense
nervous agitation marked every feature and shone pathetically
from her eyes, giving them that strange indefinable appear-
ance peculiar to a hunted animal. She grasped Dr. Green's
extended hand with ill-concealed eagerness, as if in him
all her mortal hopes were centred ; and when he remarked

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 55

that he had brought a medical confrire to talk with her, she
turned with no less eagerness to Trill, and pleaded to him
with the dun)b eloquence of her eyes to relieve her from the
situation of horror in which she was placed. Under Green's
promptings she readily answered Trill's well-framed ques-
tions, and declared that she was haunted. Mysterious sounds
followed her about the house, and at night apparitions ap-
peared in her room, seeming to come from a massive ebony
cabinet. But the most terrifying of all was a skeleton hand
that glowed with a strange light, and floated above her bed,
seeming as if every moment it would descend and crush hen
She always left a lamp burning, but after being asleep she
would be suddenly awakened to find the room in darkness,
and that awful hand floating about. She had given up
complaining to her aunt and cousins, because they laughed
at her, and said it was all a morbid, nervous fancy. Even
the servants of the household took the same view, for they
had been warned by Mrs. StaflSer not to encourage ^ her
absurd ideas.' She had occasionally got her cousin Beryl to
sleep with her, and though the hand had appeared Beryl
declared she could never see it. Her aunt had also re-
peatedly slept with her and made the same statement. So
that in the face of these ^ independent witnesses ' the poor
girl found no one save Dr. Green who accorded her any
sympathy. She had been told she was * morbid, stupid, silly,
and fanciful.' The consequence was she bore her sufferings
in silence, but they were becoming unendurable, and she felt
she must either go mad or do something desperate.

Trill asked to be allowed to see the bedroom, which
adjoined the boudoir, and was reached by a communicating
doorway screened with a velvet curtain. It was an unusually
large room, lighted by two lattice-paned windows on one
side, and by a deep oriel at the end. The furniture was all
of the most massive description, and in a recess in the wall
stood an extraordinary ebony cabinet of greatsize and strength.
It was magnificently carved, and the top was surmounted by
grotesquely moulded figures. Miss Stanmore said that she
used one half of the cabinet^ which was a veritable room in

i

56 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

itself, for her dresses, and her aunt had the other half. This
remarkable piece of furniture was early fifteenth-century
work. It was said to have once stood in Corfe Castle, and
originally to have been brought from Germany. 1

Trill spoke a few hurried words to Dr. Green, who
conducted Miss Stanmore back to the boudoir, while Trill
proceeded to make an examination of the room, and particu-
larly of the cabinet. He found it was divided into three j
compartments. Two of these compartments he was able to
look into, as the doors were not locked. The third, however,
was barred against his inspection. Having completed his
investigations, he returned to the boudoir.

^That cabinet is a very handsome and extraordinary
piece of furniture,' he remarked to Miss Stanmore.

* Yes, but I hate the very sight of it.*
^ I suppose the end compartment is the one utilised by

your aunt ? *

* Yes.'
^ I notice that it is locked ! '

* Oh, yes. I believe aunt keeps a lot of her family relics
and a quantity of old plate there. Indeed, I don't know
what there is inside of it. She always has the key. Nor
have I any desire to know.'

* Now tell me. Miss Stanmore,' asked Trill, ^ are you
perfectly convinced in your own mind that the skeleton . |
hand and the other things you have seen have an existence
outside of your own imagination ? '

*Oh, indeed, indeed they have,' exclaimed the poor
girl.

* And you firmly believe they are supernatural visita- 1
tions ? * i

^ I have no doubt about it, sir.' I|

^ Dr. Green tells me you travelled abroad last summer.'
'Yes.'

* Had you any visitations then f * \

* Yes. We were staying at a lonely mountain hotel, ]
and one night a frightful face appearea at my window.

And another night the skeleton hand came through the

i

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 57

window, which I found open, although I closed it on
retiring/

*I am now going to ask you a very blunt question,
Miss Stanmore. Has it ever occurred to you that, after all,
you are only the victim of some cruel trickery ? '

* Oh, sir, how can you suggest such a thing ? * cried the
girl, as the tears coursed down her pallid cheeks. * Who
would be so cruel as to try and drive me mad in this way ?
My aunt and cousins are kindness itself/

Trill questioned no further, but expressing a firm con-
viction that the peculiar nervous affection she suffered from
would yield to treatment, and that in a very short time she
would cease to be troubled with the visitations, he and
Dr. Green took their leave.

In the hall below they were met by Mrs. Stafiler, who
eagerly inquired of Trill, who had been introduced as
Dr. Randall, what he thought of the case.

* Your niece's illness arises from an extraordinary and
acute morbidity,' he answered, ^ which you will do well
not to encourage. Her nerves at present are very much
unstrung ; she wants bracing up, and I am going to
suggest a course of treatment which, I think, will be
beneficial.'

A peculiarly cold and cruel smile spread itself over Mrs.
Stafiler 's face, and she fixed her eyes for a moment or two
on Dr. Green, as she made reply :

* You may depend upon it. Dr. Randall, that I shall not
encourage my niece's morbid and stupid notions. I have
always told Dr. Green that instead of sympathising with
the girl he should try and laugh her out of her nonsensical
ideas. I don't know if my niece has told you what shape
these ideas take, but one is that a skeleton hand floats about
over her at night. Anything more ridiculous could not be
imagined. My daughter, whenever she has slept with her
cousin, has quite failed to see the hand, although Edith
declared she could see it.'

During this little interview Trill's seemingly dreamy eyes
were searching the lady through and through, but she was

58 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

unaware of it, and he came to the conclusion that she
could lie like truth.

When the two men had left the house and were driving
back to the town, Trill observed to his companion :

* The conclusion you have come to, doctor, is an accu-
rate one, and that poor girl is a victim, and Mrs. StafRer
is as dangerous as a tigress.'

* Ah, I am glad I have convinced you,' exclaimed the
doctor joyfully. * The thing to do now is to checkmate
this horrible and wicked scheme, and convince Edith that
she is the victim of her aunt. How do you propose to
do that ? '

* At the present moment I cannot say,* answered Trill
thoughtfully. * You must let me dwell upon the matter for
a little while.'

It was not until the following morning during the
breakfast hour that Trill gave evidence of his having come
to some conclusion.

* I think you said Mrs. StafHer has a son ? ' he asked.

* Oh, yes.'

* Is he at home with his mother ? *

* Yes, and I haven't a doubt is the prime mover in the
conspiracy.'

* What sort of a young man is he ? *

' A cub, I call him ; a fashionable puppy, with inordi-
nate self-love. I think I told you he wanted to marry his
cousin, but she wouldn't have him.'

* What does he do for a living ? '

* Nothing. Sponges on his mother.'

* Do you think you could bring me and him together f *

* Nothing easier. Nearly every night he comes into the
town and spends some time in the billiard-room of the Red
Lion Hotel.*

Acting on this information Trill began to frequent
the Red Lion, not in his assumed character of Dr. Ran-
dall, but in his own proper person, though he did not
allow it to transpire that he was Vincent Trill. He had
very soon scraped acquaintance with George StafHer, and

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 59

found him all that Dr. Green had described him. In a
week's time he and Trill had become quite intimate. The
cause of the intimacy was billiards, and an incessant flattery
of the young man's vanity. Trill was known to George
as * Mr. Lionel Findlay,* a Scottish gentleman of means, who
was on a visit to that part of England for the first time. As
Mr. Lionel Findlay was liberal with his money, talked
glibly of his * possessions ' in the North, and fooled and
flattered George Staffler to the top of his bent, the young
man fell easily into the snare that was spread for him. One
evening he and his * Scotch friend ' had a snug little tite^d-tite
dinner at the Red Lion, and shallow-pated George was
easily, very easily indeed, tempted to look on the wine that
was red, to say nothing about that which was white. And
when all this was topped up with liqueurs and sundry
glasses of the native wine of bonnie Scotland, made hot and
sweet, George Staffler, when midnight was striking, was
utterly incapable of distinguishing the north from the south.
Mine host of the Red Lion wished him to go to bed there,
but the young man, prompted by his * Scotch friend,' de-
clined ; and the Scotch friend, who had only made a pre-
tence of imbibing, was good enough to volunteer to drive
him home. George always came into town in his own dog-
cart. So the cob was put to, and the tempter and the
tempted were soon bowling along the star-lit country roads
towards the Grange.

On arrival George had to be lifted out of the trap by the
groom, although he was capable of insisting on his Scotch
friend * coming in for a shake-down,' an invitation the
friend was not slow to accept.

The household had retired, and all was silent. With
some trouble Trill guided the erratic footsteps of George
to his bedroom, and then adjourned to an adjoining spare
room indicated by George. An hour later Trill issued
forth and stealthily made a survey of the house so far as the
circumstances of the hour permitted, and that done he slept
the sleep of the just, knowing that he had acquired know-
ledge that might help him materially in his task.

6o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

The following morning at a very late breakfast he was
introduced to the family by George, who, to use his own
expressive phrase, was suffering from a * swelled head.' But
he spoke very glowingly of his new-found friend ; and a little
later privately hinted to his mother that it might be worth
while to cultivate the acquaintance of Mr. Lionel Findlay,
who would possibly prove a good catch for Beryl. Mr. Findlay
was a fascinating man, and was pressed to stay for some days
if he thought he could endure the monotony and humdrum
life of a country house.

Nothing would give him greater delight, he asseverated,
and in the course of the morning he repaired to the Red
Lion to pay a little score he owed. He also took the oppor-
tunity to call on Dr. Green and acquaint that gentleman
with the state of matters, and enlist his co-operation in
carrying out the little plan he had formulated. Accord-
ing to this the doctor was to put in an appearance at the
Grange and inform Edith that steps were being taken to
render her life more bearable, and urging her to sleep
for the next few nights in her boudoir, but to be very
careful not to let any soul in the house know that she
was doing so. She was to carefully lock the communi-
cating door between the bedroom and the boudoir, and
not to be alarmed if she was awakened in the night by
strange noises in the bedroom.

Dr. Green had no difficulty in putting all this before
the girl in such a way that, not only was her interest
aroused, but she was inspired with new-born hope, and
pledged herself to implicitly obey the instructions.

It did not take Mr. Lionel Findlay from Scotland
long to ingratiate himself very firmly in the favour, not
only of Mrs. StafHer, but her daughter, and, owing to
what Dr. Green had said, Edith Stanmore accorded him
a welcome. Mrs. Staffler — who was a woman of the
world — displayed more than the orthodox amount of
feminine curiosity with regard to this visitor, who had
come into the house in such an unusual manner. But
tie jLltlcty cf htr ratuie was no match for the practised

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 6i

skill of her guest, who, with an art infinitely superior to
her own, begot her entire confidence, so that she began
to really think that if Beryl played her cards well she
might win a big stake. George StafHer, too, whose
means were very limited, and nothing near equal to the
strain his extravagances imposed upon them, deemed it
likely enough that his Scotch firiend would ultimately turn
out to be * a godsend.' Of course, if Edith Stanmore died
— ^as George StaiHer in his heart hoped she would — his
mother would become a rich woman, and he would benefit
through his mother. But the *if' interposed itself.
Edith might pass to another world soon, or, through the
meddlesome interference of *old Doctor Green,' she
might linger for a long time. In that case there were
possibilities of Mr. Lionel Findlay turning out a useful
find, for George's exchequer would have to be replenished
from some source or other.

At this period the Grange could, not inaptly, have
been described as a house of great expectations. George
Staffier left nothing undone to impress the ^ chap frae the
North ' with the idea that he was thoroughly welcome,
while Beryl donned her prettiest frocks and was at un-
usual pains to dress her flufify hair in the most fascinating
way. Even Mrs. Staffler sometimes, when she glanced at
the imperturbable and sphinx-like face of her guest,
thought, despite her excess of years over his, that if she
gave her mind to it she might win him to herself, for
though the world would be not unlikely to declare he
was too young for her, it would almost as certainly say
he was too old for Beryl. As for poor, neglected, suf-
fering Edith Stanmore, she regarded the dreamy-eyed
stranger somewhat in the same way that a shipwrecked
mariner floating on a raft in mid-ocean regards the dis-
tant sail. It might be his salvation, or it might not. Mr.
Lionel Findlay had been at the Grange some eight or
nine days, during which he had seen many things and
learnt much despite his seeming lethargic nature. Then
one night a strange thing happened. As it chanced, by

62 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

mere accident it was an exceedingly stormy night. Chill
October had well advanced, and autumn gales had been
bellowing over the land, hurling in showers the decaying
leaves from the trees, and chafing the sea into riotous
madness. On the night in question a particularly furious
gale was sweeping with terrific force over that vast extent
of open country, and hurling itself with fury against the
Grange ; it seemed bent on levelling it to the ground.
But the builders had built well, and the old place had
weathered harder storms than that. Nevertheless, the
thick walls vibrated at times with the strain put upon
them, and the windows rattled ominously in their frames,
while long strips of the mantling ivy were torn oflF and
dashed to the ground. At intervals the wind was accom-
panied by a storm of hail that lashed the house until
those within felt as if the place were being bombarded
with small shot.

To use a homely phrase, it was a night which one
would not have cared to turn a dog out in, and the comfort
and cheerfulness of the fireside were enhanced, and the
closely drawn curtains and shaded lamps made the rooms
seem unusually cosy. But under the plea that he was
suffering from a bilious headache the visitor at the Grange
had repaired to his sleeping chamber by ten o'clock, and
others were not slow to follow, for bed had increased attrac-
tions on such a cold and stormy night.

The great and solemnly ticking clock in the hall had
slowly and with ponderous strokes told off midnight, and
the gale at this time was at its height. No more fitting
night could have been imagined for ghosts and spectres to
render themselves disagreeable ; and in Miss Stanmore's
bedchamber the skeleton hand was having a little outing
on its own account, when suddenly a very fleshly hand
indeed seized it with a grasp that was not to be denied.
Then there was a rush by someone for the mysterious
black cabinet, the door was torn open, and then the same
fleshly hand gripped a female skirt, and held on like grim
death until the holder succeeded in striking a wax vesta and

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 63

revealing the presence in the cabinet of Mrs. Staffler, who,
to her horror, beheld Mr. Lionel Findlay. It was an
embarrassing situation for her, and with a suppressed cry
she jerked herself free and disappeared through an opening
in the wall at the back of the cabinet.

Slowly the wild night waned, and the light of the
wintry morn asserted itself. The * guest from Scotland ' was
down betimes and had to breakfast alone. George never
rose early, and on this morning neither Beryl nor her
mother put in an appearance. One of the first things
Trill did was to secredy despatch the groom to the town
with a note to Dr. Green asking him to come to the
Grange without a moment's loss of time. On receipt of
the message, the doctor, who was in the act of starting on
his rounds, diverted his course and drove Grangewards.
As soon as he arrived Trill briefly related his experiences,
and it was determined to call a family meeting, and a
servant was despatched to Miss StafBer, her mother, George
StafHer, and Miss Stanmore to attend in the drawing-room
immediately. All obeyed that summons except Mrs.
StafHer. Dr. Green acted as spokesman. He began by
telling Miss Stanmore that he could at last promise her a
speedy relief from her sufferings, as he had been fortunate
enough to discover the cause of her illness, and the cause
being known the remedy was simple in this case.

* As I suspected,' he continued, * your aunt and cousins
have been guilty of a series of cruel and horrible tricks in
order to frighten you out of your senses and drive you into
a premature grave.' At this assertion — ^which was like a
thunderbolt to the wretched cousins, who had not been
forearmed by their mother — up rose George with an
assumption of injured innocence and righteous indigna-
tion, and denounced the accusation as ^ an iniquitous and
monstrous fabrication.'

* It strikes me that the only fabrication in the matter is
this,' remarked the Scotch guest, as he produced from
under his coat an ingeniously constructed skeleton hand.
Beryl, with a little moan, swooned, while Edith was

64 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

dumb with amazement, and George Staffler glanced un-
easily about the floor as if hoping it would open and
swallow him. But suddenly feeling the necessity of pulling
himself together, he exclaimed :

* What does this farce mean ? '

* It means,' answered Dr. Green, * that your wicked
and abominable conspiracy has been unmasked, thanks to the
skill and cleverness of this gentleman, who, known to you
as " Lionel Findlay," is none other than Vincent Trill, the
renowned detective.'

This was the final bomb into the enemy's camp. No
further resistance was made, and while Dr. Green applied
restoratives to Beryl, Trill led Miss Stanmore from the room.
She was so overcome that she could do nothing but weep for
some time. Ultimately Trill explained to her the discoveries
he had made. One end of the black cabinet communi-
cated, by means of an opening in the wall at the back, with
a room used by her aunt, and by this means all the shameful
tricks were carried on. The skeleton hand, rubbed with
phosphorus, was attached to the end of a piece of stout
wire, and thus made to float about the room. Edith's
relief was immense. She was overjoyed, and expressed
wonderment that she could ever have been so foolish as to
be frightened by bogeys. She expressed great anxiety, how-
ever, that scandal should be avoided, and Dr. Green con-
sented to keep the matter secret, providing that George
Staffler and Beryl left the Grange for ever, and Mrs.
Staffler made a full confession of her guilt and gave a solemn
pledge to do her duty to her ward. Mrs. Staffler, however,
hadn't the moral courage to face the victim of her abomin-
able machination, and in a few days she and her son and
daughter had relieved the Grange of their presence. The
servants and neighbours, of course, were very much asto-
nished, but they were left to conjecture the cause, though
in time more or less accurate versions of the story leaked out.

Edith Stanmore rapidly recovered her wonted health and
spirits, under the care and kindness of a maiden sister of Dr.
Green, who went to preside at the Grange for a time.

AN AWFUL CONSPIRACY 65

In the course of the summer following that eventful
winter, Miss Stanmore went abroad for a change, the doctor
taking his annual holiday at the same time, and accompany-
ing her with his sister. During this tour Edith made the
acquaintance of a gentleman on board a steamer while going
from Malta to Gibraltar, and a mutual liking sprang up. He
turned out to be the son of the Hon. Giffi>rd Claypole, a
distinguished and wealthy American lawyer. The mutual
liking ripened into mutual love, and in the fulness of time
Miss Edith Stanmore, the heiress and owner of the Grange,
Dorchester, became Mrs. Claypole.

66 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS

Since the events occurred which I am now about to relate,
there have been several garbled versions of the case, but all
more or less inaccurate, and not one giving the main facts.
This is accounted for by the pains that were taken at the
time to hush the matter up. The parties interested were
concerned in this, for reasons that will be made clear as the
narrative proceeds.

Mr. Joyce Castello, who figures prominently in the
story, had the good fortune to be born with a silver spoon
in his mouth, as the saying is. I am aware that an argu*
ment might be used with a view to show that to be born
rich is not an unmixed blessing ; but whatever incon-
veniences riches may have, I think it is incontestable that
they are largely outweighed by the advantages which the
possession of practically unlimited wealth gives to a man.
At any rate, the world is full of people who would gladly
run the risk of all the inconveniences if they could only get
rich.

Joyce Castello was the son of the well-known banker,
head of the firm of Castello, Barnett and Gibbs, whose
financial transactions often outrivalled those of the Roth-
schilds. Joyce, being an only son, was made much of from
the very first moment of his entrance into the world, and
throughout his youth and early manhood he had the handling
of so much money that he must have become pretty sick of

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 67

it. At least one would think so. He was educated mainly
abroad, but spent two years at Oxford, though he did not
distinguish himself to any extent except it was for extrava-
gance. This extravagance, however, did not lead him into
the grooves commonly followed by young gentlemen at
college, whose * governors' have the reputed wealth of
Croesus. But even without this reputation, * governors * are
often hit pretty hard by their affectionate offspring who are
qualifying for men of learning. Mr. Joyce Castello's ex-
travagance took the form principally of laying up art
treasure. Pictures he was fond of, and statuary he was fond
of, but, above all, he had a weakness for rare jewels and
precious stones, and before he was twenty-one he had a
collection that was positively unique. It will be admitted
that these tastes were more commendable than those common
to many young men at college, and which generally incline
to ardent spirits, choice cigars, and horse-racing.

When he was twenty-two, Joyce started with a roving
commission to see the world, and for his travelling com-
panion he had the Hon. Frederick Fitzsimmons, a man
older than himself, and with tastes that could not altogether
be classed as aesthetic, but he was of aristocratic lineage,
with a small income, though good prospects. He had been
at Oxford with Castello, and though the two men were of
divergent tastes, a feeling of strong friendship sprang up
between them. A friendship of this kind often springs up
between men of totally different natures, and it is as curious
as it is interesting that it should be so. Fitzsimmons was
exceedingly good-looking, very vain of his personal appear-
ance, and proud of his accomplishments in the art of ^ lady-
killing.' As he was a proficient linguist he was enabled to
exercise this art in almost any country. Mr. Castello, on
the contrary, was a shy and reserved young man, and
generally displayed an awkward bashfiilness when in the
presence of ladies for the first time. The young men were
thus, to some extent, a foil to each other. It may be men-
tioned that Fitzsimmons was dependent for the expenses of
the journey on his friend, for his own resources were of far

F2

68 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

too restricted a character to allow him to indulge his taste
for travel too freely.

When Mr. Castello returned home, after an extended
tour that had taken him wholly through Europe, largely
through Asia, partly through America, and on the fringe
of Africa, he was the possessor of an amount of art wealth
that was almost fabulous, for he had never lost an oppor-
tunity of indulging his tastes wherever and whenever he
could. Amongst his treasures was a string of famous pearls
that were destined to become known for evermore as the

* Castello pearls.* The story of these pearls is not a little
curious, even before they came into the possession of Mr.
Joyce Castello. It is said that at one time they enclasped
the white neck of the beautiful Marie Antoinette. Whether
that was so or not, it is certain they were the property of the
beautiful but infamous Duchess de Montressor. The legend
runs that a young nobleman ruined himself and all his
friends, besides compromising his honour, in order to present
these pearls to the Duchess. But when once she had gained
possession of them she threw her admirer overboard, and he
blew his brains out. As is well known, however, he was
only one of the many victims of the Duchess. Her own
end was, as might have been expected, a miserable one.
She practically died in a garret in a low quarter of Paris.
But long before that event the pearls had found their way
to the treasury chest of a miserly Jew known satirically as

* Croquin the Hungered.' It is pretty certain that he never
paid much for them. Ultimately he sold them for an

enormous sum to the unfortunate young Prince Z ,

who presented them to the charming young wife of a
foreign ambassador, who ultimately divorced her. What
vicissitudes the pearls passed through after that it is difficult
to say, but we next hear of them as being in the celebrated
collection of gems of Count Rudiani of Florence. From
this collection they mysteriously disappeared, were traced to
India, brought back, and ultimately placed in a museum in
Milan. The contents of this museum were dispersed in
time, and the noble string of pearls was purchased by the

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 69

then reigning Sultan of Turkey, but he, so it is said, pawned
them later on, and when next they turned up in public they
were sold in Rome at a sale of art treasures.

It was in Rome that Mr. Castello first heard of the
pearls. He and his friend while on their way from the
East landed at Brindisi, and thence travelled to Rome, where
they intended to pass the winter. At this period the pearls
were in the possession of a decayed Italian family, proud but
poor, like so many of their country people. By this time
Castello had become known as a coUector with seemingly
inexhaustible wealth at his disposal, and his presence in the
Holy City probably proved too strong a temptation to the
family, whose needs overcame their pride. Anyway, the
end of it was Mr. Joyce Castello became the owner of the
pearls by transferring the substantial sum of fifty thousand
pounds from his own account to that of the family in
question. Castello was very proud of his possession, and for
security sake he lodged the string of pearls with the Bank
of Rome during his stay in the city. When he left Rome
in the spring for London he carried the pearls with him.
They were placed in a small leather case carried in a hand-
bag which he took into the railway carriage with him. He
had secured the whole of the compartment of that carriage
for the use of himself and friend, as he liked to travel in
comfort and luxury. After a somewhat roundabout journey
they arrived in England. They had gone from Rome to Milan,
thence to Geneva, and so on to Paris. During the time
they were travelling home Mr. Castello did not look to see
if his string of costly pearls was all right. He took it for
granted that the beautiful baubles were safe. He believed
that he had secured them in such a way that thieves could
not break in and steal. But he was quickly undeceived as
soon as he touched English soil. The Hon. Frederick
Fitzsimmons carried the precious bag on shore from the
Channel steamer, for it was a burden that could not be
trusted to vulgar hands. At the Custom House, during
the usual examination, Mr. Castello produced his keys in
order that the bag might be opened, and on turning the

70 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

things out the cabinet or case, which was at the bottom,
was found with the lock broken, and empty. The string of
pearls which had cost fifty thousand pounds had disappeared,
and search failed to reveal its presence. It was only too
obvious that it had been stolen in transit; and stolen so
cleverly and adroitly as to leave the owner in entire ignorance
of his loss until he had virtually reached his home.

Mr. Castello expressed great consternation when he
learnt that he had been relieved of his treasure. It was not
so much the loss of the money that concerned him. He had
been used to large sums all his life, therefore fifty thousand —
though it would have been considered a handsome fortune by
many — was to him a moderate amount. But in purchasing
that unique string of pearls he had in his mind's eye a fair
maiden of ravishing beauty who was destined to become his
bride ; and it was as an ornament for her ^ swan-like ' neck
that the pearls were intended, otherwise it is doubtful if he
would have spent so much of his fortune to acquire a
gewgaw of the kind merely to lock up in his treasure
cabinet for people who didn't know pearls from paste to
stare at.

The Hon. Fitzsimmons shared his companion's con-
sternation, and suggested that they should return to France
immediately and lay the whole matter before the Paris
police. Castello objected to this course, for, as he pointed
out, there was nothing to prove that the pearls had been
stolen in France. They might have been abstracted in
Italy or Switzerland. It was notorious of both countries
that robberies from passengers' luggage were of everyday
occurrence. No ; what Mr. Castello suggested was that they
should go on to London and immediately secure the services
of Vincent Trill, for the young gentleman expressed his
determination to recover the pearls if it was possible to do so.
Of course, Fitzsimmons fell in with his friend's suggestion,
and an unusually urgent telegram the next morning
brought Trill to Mr. Castello's residence. There Trill was
made acquainted with all the foregoing particulars, and he
was asked for his opinion. With the caution peculiar to

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 71

him he declined to commit himself to anything very definite,
but he said he considered the whole afrair as very peculiar,
and, on the face of it, it seemed as if the robbery had been
prearranged. He thought that the police of France,
Switzerland, and Italy should at once be made acquainted
with the robbery, and requested to try and trace the thief
or thieves. Apart from that Trill promised to do all that in
him lay to recover the pearls.

* As you may imagine,' urged Mr. Castello, * I am very
anxious to recover these pearls, for, apart from their
historical associations, they are probably unique, and it is a
great disappointment to me that I cannot carry out the
intention which was in mind when I bought them. Now I
do wish you would tell me what you think the chances of
recovering them are ? '

* You see, much depends on who stole them,' Trill
replied. ^Possibly an attempt may be made to sell the
whole string entire, in which case detection may follow, for
the market for such a valuable collection is necessarily
limited, and a string of pearls of such great value could not
be offered for sale without attracting attention. On the
other hand, if the thief is cautious, each pearl majr ^
offered separately, or two or three together, and in difierent
places. It would be relatively easier to get rid of them in
that manner. Have you tried to form any opinion of your
own as to how the robbery was committed ? '

*No.'

* Nor as to the place ? '
*No, again.'

* You say you stayed two days in Milan en route ?*

* That is so.'

* And two days in Geneva f '
*Yes.'

* And during the time where was the string of pearls ? '
^ In the bag, I presume, and the bag was locked up in a

large portmanteau of mine.'

*And are you quite sure the pearls were in your
possession after you left Rome ? '

\

72 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

* Quite sure, and for this reason. When my friend,
Mr. Fitzsimmons, and I were seated in our compartment,
and we had proceeded on our journey, Mr. Fitzsimmons
asked me to let him look at the pearls, and I took the box
from the bag and opened it for that purpose.'

* And he handled them ? *

* Oh, yes, and so did I. He held them up to the light,
and after looking at them critically for some time he re-
marked that it was difficult to imagine such seeming trifles
being so valuable.'

* And after that you restored them to the box ? '

* I did.'

* And locked the box ? '

* Yes.'

* And took charge of the key f '

* Yes, the key was one of a bunch which I always carry
with me.'

* Had you any occasion to open the box at Milan ? '

* Yes. I had put some bank notes in a pocket of the
bag and wanted them.'

* At that time was the box containing the pearls there ? '

* I haven't a doubt about it.'

* And locked ? '

* Well — I should be disposed to say, yes.'

* Why are you so disposed ? '

^ Because I think that if the case had not been locked I
should have noticed it ; for when the bag was opened at
Dover it was seen at once that the lid had been forced and
the lock was broken.'

* Therefore you don't think the pearls were stolen in
Milan f '

*No, Idonotl'

* The bag had been opened with a duplicate key ? '

* Yes.'

^ It was an ordinary lock, I suppose ? '

* Quite ordinary.'

^ Silt the lock of the box you said was not ? '

* No. It's a very peculiar box, as I will show you.'

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 73

Here Castello retired to his room, returning in a few
minutes with the case in his hand. It was a small, oblong,
leather-covered case, with a leather handle to it. It was
furnished with a lock of unusual strength and rather com-
plicated in structure. It had been forced open with some
small instrument, and considerable strength had been
exerted. About the leather in front of the box were a
number of peculiar marks. In some instances they took
the form of short, parallel scratches, and in others they were
indents, as though something very hard and with an angular
face had been pressed against the leather. Trill carried
the box to the window for the sake of the better light, and
drawing a small magnifying glass from his pocket he
critically examined those marks for some time, and at last
set the box on the table without comment.

* You didn't open the bag in Geneva, did you ? * he
asked.

* No. I never opened it after we left Milan.*

* So that somewhere between Milan and Geneva, or
Geneva and Paris — 2, long journey — the robbery was com-
mitted, and the thief knew that you had in your posses-
sion, and in the compartment with you, or in your bedroom
at the hotel, whichever way it was, a handbag, and that in
the bag was a leather case containing a valuable string of
pearls.'

* How could he know that ? *

* Well, you see, he came provided with a key.'

* Ah, just so.'

* Now, supposing he had forced the lock of the bag he
would have betrayed himself, for you could hardly have
helped seeing that the bag had been forced. His cleverness
and artfulness prevented him falling into that error, so
he was ready with his key, and also some strong small
instrument for forcing the lid of the jewel case. That fact
argues that he was perfectly well aware that the case opened
with a key. The special construction of the lock of the
case precluded the idea of a key, unless an impression of the
lock could have been taken.'

74 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

* I see the whole business in a new light now/ remarked
Mr. Castello musingly, as he played with the ends of his
moustache.

^No doubt you do ; and no doubt also you will see that,
as the thief came provided with the necessary tools for his
work, he must have known beforehand that you carried the
string of pearls with you.'

* Of course. That seems obvious now.'

*Very well. Now, viewing the matter in the new
light I have thrown upon it, can you recall any incident, how-
ever trifling, which presents itself to you now as suspicious ?'

Mr. Castello lapsed into thoughtfiilness, and bit the ends
of his moustache while he ransacked his brains. And,
having made a thorough search in the receptacles of his
memory, he had to confess that nothing occurred to him.
During the journey from Milan to Geneva he never once
quitted the train long enough for the robbery to have been
committed. At Geneva the bag was locked in his port-
manteau as in Milan. When the journey was resumed the
bag was taken from the portmanteau, which was registered
through to Paris, and he himself carried the bag to the train.

^ I confess,' he said, looking very puzzled, and with a
troubled, anxious expression displaying itself on his face,
* that I am perfectly mystified, for I don't see how it was
possible for the pearls to be stolen en routed

*To a clever thief who has his wits about him most
things are possible. But now, does it not strike you that
the thief in this instance was not only well acquainted with
your movements, but knew a good deal about your afiairs ? '

^ He certainly must have known that I had the pearls
with me,' answered Castello.

* Of that there can be no doubt, and I only hope we
may succeed in unearthing him. You can depend upon
my doing my best.*

Trill was about to take his departure when the Hon.
Frederick Fitzsimmons was ushered in. He greeted the
detective very cordially, and at once began to talk about the
robbery. He had no theory to offer unless it was in an

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 75

expression of opinion that the robbery must have been
effected while he and his friend were staying at Milan or at
Geneva.

* Which means,' remarked Trill, *that in one of the
two hotels in which you stayed the thief managed to carry
off the pearls.*

* Well, yes, that is what I think.'

*If that were so, the thief must have shadowed you
very closely.*

* What do you mean ? * asked Fitzsimmons.

* Well, you can hardly suppose the robbery was a mere
accident of chance ? *

^ Oh, yes ; that is just what I do think.'

^ Then you are of opinion that some ordinary hotel sneak,
prowling round in search of any trifle he could lay his hands
on, managed to make a haul of this little thing of fifty
thousand pounds ? '

* Yes, that is what I suppose.'

Vincent Trill smiled at the young gentleman's simpli-
city, but did not consider it worth his while to continue the
argument further, and at once took his leave, carrying with
him, by permission of the owner, the leather case that had
contained the string of pearls.

His first step was to send information of the robbery to all
the Continental head police quarters, with a request that a
careful watch might be kept on certain notorious persons in
divers places, who were known to deal largely in stolen jewels.
Of course, in the case of pearls of such great value as those
which had been stolen from Mr. Castello, there must
necessarily be a very limited market for them, for only
exceedingly wealthy people can afford to buy such costly
baubles. But, as Trill had pointed out to Mr. Castello, it
was not probable the string of pearls would be offered in its
entirety, as such an act on the part of the audacious thief
would lead to certain detection, but by separating the pearls
and offering two or three at one place and two or three at
another, purchasers might be found. It goes without saying
that this segregation would very considerably lessen the

76 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

value, because the pearls had been brought together so that
they should all be a perfect match, and every pearl as a unit
of the whole had its relative value. Altogether, there were
one hundred and twenty pearls, large and small. To get
so many perfect specimens together so as to form a
complete necklet or head ornament was most difficult, and
that is where the pearls, apart from their intrinsic individual
value, were enhanced in value when aggregated. But the
thief, whoever he was, unless an absolute fool, would make
the sacrifice necessary if the gems were to be separated, in
order to lessen the risk of his detection.

About a fortnight after Trill had had that interview with
Mr. Castello, two men sat outside the Hotel du Lion at
Antwerp. They had a little marble-top table between them,
on which were glasses of liqueur. Each man was smoking,
and both were seemingly wrapped in thought, or engaged in
contemplating the stars. It was a fine night, and warm,
although the season was well advanced. The Hotel du
Lion was not in a fashionable quarter, nor was it beloved of
the hurrying tourist. 'Arry and his gal did not patronise it,
as it was not swell enough for them. Its clientile was com-
posed principally of tradesmen and commercial travellers
representing small businesses. A short flight of steps and a
central door gave access to the hotel, which, like most such
places on the Continent, had a cheap restaurant attached.
In front were numerous small tables, but only two or three
of them were occupied, including the one at which the two
men alluded to sat. Presently the men began to talk in
undertones, and one pulled out his watch and consulted it
after the manner of a person who was anxious and dis-
appointed. He was a young man, well dressed, and for
anything distinctive about him he might have been English,
French, German, Spanish, or almost any other nationality.
His cigar being done, he tossed the stump away, and, pulling
out his case, helped himself to a fresh cigar, and then handed
the case to his companion. And when they were in full
blast once more the garpn was summoned to replenish their
cups. They were indulging in co£Fee and cognac. Once

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 77

more they relapsed into silence and a contemplation of the
stars, until their reverie was interrupted by the approach of a
third man. One of the two jumped up and greeted him
with a cordial shake of the hand ; then introduced him to the
second, who did not even rise from his seat, but made an
inclination of the head in recognition of the introduction.
The newcomer was very dark in complexion, of about forty
years of age, well dressed, with a conspicuous display of
jewellery — a diamond pin in his neck-scarf, rings on his
fingers, and a massive chain crossing the rotundity of his
person. It needed no second glance to see that the man had
an unmistakably Jewish type of face. He took a chair at
the table. A cigar was offered to him and accepted, and a
third cup of coffee with a liqueur was ordered. These little
details having been attended to, the three fell to conversation,
which was carried on in French, always more or less ani-
mated, but pitched in a key which would have made it very
difficult for anyone, even if he had been sitting near by, to
have overheard much of it, if any. However, no one was
near, and though plenty of people were passing to and fro —
for the street was an artery connecting two main thorough-
fares — no one seemed to take the slightest notice of the three
gentlemen, whose business was their own and nobody else's ;
at least so they no doubt liked to think.

The conversation in which they were engaged was
earnest and long, and more cigars were smoked and more
coffee drunk ; but at last the Israelite compared the time
of his watch with the cathedral, whose deep-toned, heavy
bells were tolling out eleven, and when the bells had
finished he rose and stretched himself; and the other two
also rose, and the three sauntered along the pavement a
little way, then stopped for another short conversation, until
at last the Israelite departed, having shaken the hands of the
other two, and saluted them by raising his hat. For a few
minutes the two men stood apparently irresolute, as though
they could not quite make up their minds what to do, but
at last sauntered off to another part of the town, and spent
the rest of the evening at a cafi chantant.

78 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Vincent Trill had promised Mr. Castello to report to
him as soon as possible, but nearly three weeks had elapsed
without his giving any sign, and as Castello had got
anxious, he dropped him a line asking him to call ; and Trill
complied with the request the same evening, and found
Mr. Castello and his friend the Hon. Frederick Fitzsimmons
together. They had been passing the time away with a
game of billiards, but ceased as soon as Trill was announced,
and almost with one voice they exclaimed as the detective
came into their presence :

* Well, any news ? *

* No,* was the curt answer.

Mr. Castello looked glum, and remarked :

^ Then I suppose you regard it as a hopeless case ? '

Trill shrugged his shoulders.

* One should never abandon hope,* he said. * It doesn't
do to say a case is hopeless because the first inquiries show
no results.*

* That's true,* put in Fitzsimmons ; * but if you haven't
been able to get a clue after all this time, I shouldn't say
there was much chance of my friend here seeing his string
of pearls again.'

* Oh, I don't know,' replied Trill a little nonchalantly.

* One can never tell. It's the impossible, you know, that
often happens. Sometimes a clue is got in the most unlikely
places.'

* Yes, sometimes 5 but not often, I imagine,' said
the Hon. Frederick, as he smiled and revealed his white
teeth.

* Well, my opinion is, it's good-bye to the pearls as far
as I'm concerned,' Mr. Castello remarked with a sigh.

* It's a big loss, but I must grin and bear it, I suppose.'

As Trill did not volunteer any information, nor make
any suggestion, nor even oflFer an opinion, that subject of
conversation was allowed to drop, and Castello invited him
to play a game at billiards ; and the invitation being accepted,
the host led the way to the elegantly-appointed billiard-
room at the top of the house, and a servant was summoned

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 79

and ordered to furnish liquid refreshment. After an hour's
play or thereabouts the Hon. Frederick Fitzsimmons
wished his friend good-night and retired, having an engage-
ment to keep, as he said. Trill and Castello went down-
stairs to the dining-room, as Trill had told his host he
wanted to have a word in private with him.

* How long have you known the Hon. Frederick Fitz-
simmons ? * asked Trill somewhat abruptly,

* Oh, a long time.'

* You have perfect faith in him ? '

* Undoubtedly I have, and I wouldn't hear anyone speak
an ill word against him.'

* Supposing, then, I were to tell you that he is the thief
who stole your pearls ? '

* I should call you a Pardon me. I don't quite

mean that ; but I should say you were labouring under a
delusion.'

^ I am not aware that I have ever had delusions in my
life. At least, that is my opinion. In this instance, at
any rate, there is absolutely no delusion. The gentleman
you have regarded as your friend — the Hon. Frederick Fitz-
simmons — is a thief, and stole your string of pearls.'

Mr. Castello literally reeled against a chair and sup-
ported himself with the back of it. His face grew deathly
pale, and he gave evidence of being in deep distress. He
gasped out in a broken voice the one word :

* Impossible ! '

* Nothing is impossible in the way of wickedness,'
answered Trill ; * nor am I ever in the habit of making
a distinct charge against a man until I am certain of my
ground.'

^ I — I am dumbfounded,' was all Mr. Castello could
say, trying to recover himself, but evidently suffering
severely from the shock.

^ I can quite imderstand that,' said Trill. ^ A man does
not like to suddenly discover that he has been duped and
swindled by his seemingly best friend. But I may tell you
now I suspected Fitzsimmons from the very first. All the

8o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

circumstances of the case seemed to fix the guilt on him.
When I examined the box in which the pearls had been, I
noticed certain scratches and indents in the leather about
the lock ; and it struck me that these marks were made by
a diamond ring worn by the man who prised the lid open.
Fitzsimmons wore, and still wears, a diamond ring on the
little finger of his right hand. Then I shadowed Fitz-
simmons and tracked him to Antwerp, where he was joined
by another man, who came from Brussels. That man was
Stephen Harnett, who, although a well-educated man and
the son of a gentleman, was. convicted some years ago in
London of being connected with a gang of forgers. He
suffered a term of imprisonment, which would have been
much heavier, but he was considered to have been the
victim of evil companions. On his release he took up his
residence in Brussels, and there is little doubt that since then
he has made a living by acting as a medium of communi-
cation between English thieves of the first class and the
buyers of stolen property — mostly Jews — who are to be found
scattered throughout Belgium and Holland. To such a
man — one Zaccariah Zapte, a notorious rascal residing in
Antwerp — Harnett introduced Fitzsimmons, and the three
discussed the subject at great length one night outside the
Hotel du Lion. The following day the Hon. Frederick
Fitzsimmons and the Jew, Zaccariah Zapte, journeyed to
London together, but it is certain that they could not do a
deal, as the Jew departed without taking the pearls with him.
There is no doubt he wanted to get them for an old
song.'

^ And where are the pearls now ? ' gasped out Castello,
in a voice so broken and husky that it suggested he was
choking.

* I should say they are still in the possession of Fitz-
simmons. He lives in chambers, and you are in the habit
of frequently visiting him. Is that not so ? '

* It is.'

* Then I suggest that to-morrow when he goes out you
and I should go in, and, unless I am very much mistaken.

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 8i

we shall come out again with the pearls in our possession.
In the meantime I will apply for a warrant for his arrest,'
Castello literally sprang at Trill and seized his arm.

* No, for Grod's sake, don't do that,' he cried. * For the
love of Heaven, don't, don't — I knowjall his people. It will
break his father's heart ; it will drive his mother mad.'

^ But I cannot compound a felony.'

* No, of course not. But I will never consent to the
rascal being arrested. I would sooner lose the pearls first.
He is evidently a shameless liar, an accomplished humbug,
and deserves the heaviest of punishment ; but for the sake
of his people I will, if I can, save him from the consequences
of his crime.'

* You cannot do that,' said Trill. * The law will not
permit it.'

* Very well,' answered Castello, suddenly recovering all
his self-possession, and speaking with remarkable coolness.
* I suppose you must do your duty. Meet me here to-
morrow at twelve o'clock, and we will go to Fitzsimmons's
chambers together. And now I will ask you to leave me,
for I am terribly upset, and feel as if I must retire.'

Agreeable to this request. Trill at once wished his host
good-night and retired. He had no sooner gone than
Castello rang the bell and summoned his valet.

* John,' he said, * get me my top-coat 5 put on your
own, and call a hansom cab.'

John was a fine, stalwart young fellow, well trained and
disciplined, and used to obeying without questioning. So
he merely bowed, said * Yes, sir,' and retired. In the mean-
time Castello hurried to his bedroom, unlocked a door, took
out a small revolver, loaded it in all its chambers, and put it
into his pocket, then descended to the hall, where John was
waiting for him with the top-coat, and the cab was at the
door. Twenty minutes later, Castello, followed by John,
was mounting the stairs that led to the Hon. Frederick
Fitzsimmons's lodgings. Late as the hour was, the Hon.
Frederick had not retired. He was a very late bird, indeed.
He was amazed to see Castello, and asked him what it meant.

o

8i RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

^It means this,* answered Castello, speaking a little
hurriedly, but with perfect command of himself. ^ I have
come to demand, and to enforce the demand, if needs be,
the return of the string of pearls you so shamelessly stole
from me.

The Hon. Frederick suddenly went deathly pale. Then
he tried to smile.

^ I say,' he exclaimed, * this is a ghastly joke. Are you
drunk or mad ? '

*It is not a joke,' answered Castello sternly, *nor am
I drunk or mad. For the sake of your father and mother,
whom I know so well, and of your family generally, I want
to save you from the penalty of your crime. To-morrow
a warrant will be out for your arrest. Before then you
must be out of the country. Now, then, give me the
pearls and go.'

^ Fool ! You're mad ! ' cried Fitzsimmons, getting ex-
cited and looking dangerous ; but he had met his match
this time, for Castello drew his revolver, and with perfect
coolness replied :

* I have come prepared for any emergency, you will see,
and shall not hesitate to use this weapon in self-defence.
Moreover, my man John is in the passage, and will come
to my assistance if necessary.'

Fitzsimmons bit his lip, bit his nails, and stamped his
foot.

* I am the fool,' he said between clenched teeth. * I
played boldly, but not cleverly enough, and have lost. The
game is in your hands. So be it. Dire necessity drove me
to this deed, and you placed temptation in my way, and I
could not resist it. Had you waited a few days longer, I
should have departed for the Continent with the pearls. As
it is I must go without them.' As he spoke he went to a
cupboard, which he unlocked, and took therefrom a strong
cash-box, which he also unlocked, and produced the pearls
intact, and handed them to the lawful owner, with the
remark, * There are the pearls. Now do what you like
with me.'

A STRING OF FAMOUS PEARLS 83

*I shall do nothing. The way of escape is still open.
Go before it closes.' He took out his pocket-book and
counted out five ten-pound notes. ^ That will help you on
your way,' he said, * and I hope I shall never look upon your
face again.' He spoke not a word, but turned on his heel
and left the cowering wretch to his misery, and drove
rapidly home with the precious pearls once more in, his
possession.

The next day, punctual to his appointment. Trill was
at Mr. Castello's house. Castello displayed the pearls to his
astonished gaze, with the remark : ^ Thanks to you, I
have recovered them, and the thief has probably left the
country by this time.'

Trill felt that he had been slightly outwitted, but under
the circumstances he wasn't altogether sorry. But, as in
duty bound, he applied for a warrant, though not until the
following day. The Hon. Frederick Fitzsimmons, how-
ever, had made good use of his time, and ftom that day to
this the warrant has never been executed. Years after-
wards a man known as Juan Matteo, but who was believed
to be an Englishman, and who answered to the description
of Fitzsimmons, was stabbed in a Madrid cafi by a man
with whom he had quarrelled.

03

84 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

LVI
THE LEAGUE OF DEATH

One dav in November, many years ago, a krgc sailing
vessel called the ^ Ocean Star ' arrived in the River Mersey
from San Francisco, after a long and stormy passage, and as
the tide served she was at once taken into dock, and was
safely moored alongside the berth allotted to her, about six
o'clock in the evening. The weather was atrocious. For
days it had been blowing a heavy gale of wind, and on this
particular evening the air was filled with sleet and rain, and
the great shipping town looked as dreary and miserable as it
is possible for any town to do. The ^ Ocean Star ' had ten
passengers, and all these passengers hurried ashore as speedily
as possible, with the exception of two men, one named
Michael O'Connor, an Irishman, as the name implies, and
the other Jake Dempster, who was well advanced in years,
being nearer sixty than fifty, but of powerful build, and
giving one the impression that he had led a wild and rough
life. His hands were large and sinewy, his &ce tanned and
scarred. He and Michael O'Connor — ^who was a young
man — were friends. They had struck up a friendship on
board the vessel soon after leaving San Francisco, and appa-
rently had been very close * pals ' all the passage home.
Although everybody belonging to the vessel cleared out as
soon as the work was done, and only the usual watchmen
and Custom House officers remained, Dempster and
O'Connor expressed a wish to be allowed to spend the night
on board, as they were both strangers to Liverpool, and in-

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 85

tended to start for London the following day. The per-
mission was readily granted^ and they proceeded to make
preparations for spending a * jolly evening' after their own
fashion, by sending on shore for a quantity of provisions,
and more than a fair amount of liquor, including three
bottles of champagne. There were two Custom House
officers on board, and they were invited to join in the
feast, an invitation which, it appeared, they readily ac-
cepted. After the meal the party played poker, and con-
tinued to play until long after midnight, the liquid refresh-
ment being disposed of at intervals, and by the time it
was consumed they were all more or less in a state of
mental fog.

This carouse was the prologue to the drama. Be-
tween five and six o'clock in the morning, a Dantesque
morning of gloom, the dock labourers began to assemble
preparatory to commencing their work. One of their
number, in passing along the wharf to which .the ^ Ocean
Star ' was moored, saw something by the light of the lantern
he carried which attracted his attention. The wharf was
lumbered with the miscellaneous articles usually found in
such a place ; but in one part were stacks of hides which had
come out of the hold of a vessel moored astern of the
* Ocean Star.' Between two of these bundles of hides, the
labourer thought he saw a man crouching down, and on
throwing the rays of his lantern on the spot he found he
was not mistaken, so he called to some of his mates, and a
nearer inspection showed that a man was huddled up
between two bales. As he gave no response when touched,
and made no answer when called, he was dragged out, ajid
it was then revealed that the man was not in a position to
respond or answer, as he was quite dead. Moreover, to the
consternation of the labourers, his shirt front was stained
with blood, and a more minute investigation showed there was
a pool of blood where he had been huddled up face down-
wards, and the hides in the immediate neighbourhood were
splashed with blood. So it was decided not to touch the
body any more, until one of the policemen on duty had been

86 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

summoned. Soon the alarm spread, and, the law being well
represented, the dead man was lifted up again and laid on his
back on the wharf, when, by the light of numerous lanterns,
it was found that all his clothes in front were saturated with
blood. Already a messenger had been despatched for the
divisional police surgeon, and when that gentleman arrived
and had made a cursory examination, he informed the eager
onlookers that the man had met his death by being stabbed
in the chest, and though he would not commit himself
positively to the statement that the wound was not self-
inflicted, he was of opinion that it was a case of murder.

An examination of the spot where the body was found
led to the discovery of a knife, an ordinary sheath knife such
as every sailor carries. It was saturated with blood, and
from the position where it was found, the belief in suicide
which some of the little group of onlookers entertained was
strengthened. The knife was given into the keeping of the
inspector of police, who had by this time^ arrived ; and the
next thing was to identify the body. This was soon done,
for the watchman — or a watchman,' for there were two — of
the * Ocean Star ' had come on shore to find out what the
commotion was about, and ht ddivered himself to this
effect :

* That yere*s the gent what stopped aboard the wessel.'

* What vessel ? ' asked a chorus of voices.

* Why, the " Hocean Star," in course,* replied the watch-
man in a tone of contempt for the ignoramuses who did not
know it without being told.

Then came the query :

* What gent ? '

* Well, the gent as stayed aboard. I think as he came
'ome in the ship.'

Following this information, so intelligently conveyed,
inquiries were at once made on board the * Ocean Star,' with
the result that when Michael O'Connor had been aroused
out of a heavy sleep, he at once identified the dead man as
his friend, Jake Dempster, but he couldn't say how Jake got
on shore.

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 87

It was a strange and ghastly tragedy, pregnant with
suggestiveness of the uncertainty of human life. This un-
fortunate man had crossed many thousands of miles of ocean,
and braved the dangers of the deep, to meet with a sudden
and awful death on the first night of his being in England.
Of course a coroner's inquiry was held, and the medical
evidence that was given made it clear that the man had not
died by his own hand, but by the hand of another. The
nature of the deadly knife-thrust was such that it could not
have been self-inflicted. But if there had been any doubt
about the wound in front, which had penetrated right into
the heart, there was none about one in the back between
the shoulder blades, although that wound would not have
proved mortal. The deduction from this was that the man
had been attacked from behind, and feeling himself stabbed
had turned in defence, when the knife was instantly'plunged
into his breast. The knife found fitted the wound, and
there was nothing about the weapon to distinguish it from
any other of its class.

(^Necessarily all who had been on board on the fatal night
were severely examined, and each and all convicted him and
themselves of having indulged in a carouse until all were
more or less under the influence of the potent liquor they
had imbibed. The rest was a mystery. How Dempster
got on shore, why he went on shore, and when he went,
nobody could tell ; for the Custom House officers and
O'Connor slept the heavy sleep of the inebriate ; and if
the v\ratchmen did not do so, they were too muddled to con-
cern themselves with what was passing around them. They
stoutly maintained that they were duly vigilant, but owing
to the bitterness of the weather they had remained under
shelter. No charge, of coiu"se, could be preferred against
O'Connor. He was an independent person, but the officers
and the watchmen were severely dealt with by the proper
authorities for neglect of duty. This did not clear up the
mystery of the murder, however, and all inquiries on the
part of the police and the local detectives failed to get a
clue. Several relatives of the dead man were discovered in

88 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

London, and from them it became known that Jake Demp-
ster was a Yorkshireman, the son of a farmer who had been
unsuccessful. Jake was a third son, and when he was
eighteen he had gone to America, subsequently making his
way to California, where he became a gold digger, and
worked on the diggings for years. He had amassed money,
and was returning home to enjoy himself. He had regularly
written to his aged mother, who lived in a suburb of
London, and sent her money, and on his arrival in Liverpool
he had immediately despatched a telegram to her saying that
she would see him in a day or two. But it was not to be.
^Man proposes and God disposes,' and Jake Dempster
landed on his native shore only to meet his death by the
hand of a midnight assassin.

Another circumstance brought to light at the inquest,
and testified to by the captain and his officers, was that
Jake Dempster during the passage home had spent his
money most liberally, being well supplied, and he had been
heard to say that just before leaving California he had
sold a packet of small nuggets for upwards of a thousand
pounds, and had converted his American money into
English gold and notes at San Francisco. Nevertheless,
no money was found upon his person, and none amongst
his luggage, though there were plenty of securities and
letters showing that he had forwarded to an English bank
large sums of money. In his cabin was an American
trunk ; the key was in the lock, but though the trunk was
searched not a penny was found. What, then, had become
of the ready money he was known to possess ? No answer
to the question was forthcoming. Robbery seemed to have
been the motive of the murder, but no arrest was made,
for the most critical investigation failed to get a shred of
legal evidence that would have justified the arrest of anyone.
And so the days passed on, and became weeks, and the
weeks months. The dead man mouldered in his grave ;
the murder was forgotten by the public, and the inquiries
of the police brought nothing further to light. Murdered
Jake Dempster's blood cried silently for vengeance, but

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 89

vengeance was not forthcoming. The majesty of the
law had been defied and cheated of its due.

It was about two years after this very remarkable crime
in the Liverpool docks that a tragedy no less strange, but
difiering in detail, occurred in London, and the investigation
of it fell to the lot of Vincent Trill, with what result will
presently be seen.

It appeared that an eccentric old lady, reputed to be
wealthy and miserly, lived a lonely life in a detached house
in the neighbourhood of Hampstead. The house was her
own, as were several others in the same district. She also
had a large sum invested in Consols, and every quarter day
she went down to the Bank of England, where she was
well known, to draw her dividends. She had done this for
a number of years, and it was her habit on these red-letter
days to repair to an ancient restaurant of repute not iar
from the Bank, where she regaled herself with a good
dinner and a whole pint of sherry wine. One March day
she went to the Bank as usual, thence to the restaurant,
and, having consumed her dinner and her pint of sherry, she
duly departed in most excellent health and spirits. After
that, it seems, nobody had seen her alive who could identify
her. For several days following that quarter day the
tradesmen who served her with provisions went to the
house,, but failed to get any response to the ringing of the
bell. She kept no servants, but once a week a charwoman
whom she had employed for many years went to clean up
and put things right. At first the silence reigning in the
house and the drawn blinds did not cause any alarm, but
when the charwoman failed to obtain entrance suspicion
was aroused, and the police were communicated with. The
consequence was, after due consideration, an entrance into
the house, effected by force, and then the poor old lady was
discovered in her bedroom, partly undressed, and dead. She
was lying in a heap on the floor, and medical examination
revealed the fact that she had been strangled. The neck
was terribly bruised, and the pressure marks of the mur-
derer's fingers were unmistakable. The house had been

90 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

ransacked. The whole place was in disorder. Drawers
had been turned out^ cupboards searched, boxes broken
open, beds examined, even the carpets torn up, and out of
the considerable sum of money the lady was known to have
received on dividend day, not a penny piece was found.
Therefore, robbery was clearly the motive of the crime.

This tragedy in its main features did not differ materially
from many others of a like kind which from time to time
through the generations had shocked the heart of a mighty
city. Not a few of these crimes had been passed into the
category of the ^Undiscovered,' and this latest one at
Hampstead promised at first to rank with them. But it so
happened that the news of the old lady's shocking death —
by the way, she was known as Miss Sarah Thorne — brought
forth a crowd of relatives, who appeared from all quarters,
like a flock of vultures gathering for a feast. And from
them, or some of them at least, it was learnt that Miss
Thorne had, years before, quarrelled with everyone belong-
ing to her, and had chosen to live an eccentric and lonely
life. On one occasion, at the instance of some of the
more eagerly greedy of these loving kin, an attempt had
been made to prove the lady irresponsible and incapable of
managing her own afiairs, and it was sought to have her
le&;ally confined. But this avariciousness was defeated, for
Miss Sarah Thorne was pronounced to be perfectly capable
of taking care of herself and of looking after her afiairs.
After that she was more than ever embittered against her
relatives, and entirely disowned them.

Now that the poor old soul was dead, however, the
dear relatives, who shed crocodile tears with one eye, and
searched about for the reputed miser's hoard with the other,
were so keenly disappointed to find that all valuables had
been carried off from the house, and that a will in the
hands of the solicitor of the deceased gave everything to a
nephew whom she had never seen, that they clamoured for
vengeance on somebody, and demanded that no stone should
be left unturned in the search for the murderer. As the
old lady had been dead several days when her body was

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 91

discovered, it was clear the murderer had had a long start,
but Vincent Trill was instructed to find his trail, if possible,
and bring him to justice.

Trill began his work by a critical examination of the
house, and saw sufficient to feel convinced that the murderer
had gone forth from the scene of his crime bv a window that
opened out on to a walled-in garden. Under the window
outside were footprints, the footprints of a man's heavy
boots without nails. These footsteps were traceable all
down the garden, across a neglected rose-bed, and into a
lane at the back that led on to the Heath. There they
were lost. But another discovery of more importance even
was the finding of a little silver badge, shield shape, and
bearing the number * 27.' A morsel of chain was attached
to the badge, which was lying on the ground immediately
under the window. Now, it should be explained that the
window-sill was nine feet and a half from the ground, and
the outside wall was covered with a trellis-work, about
which clambered a very thorny brier. There was a strong
reason for thinking that the murderer had selected this way
of escape as the one which best favoured his chances of not
being seen. The front of the house faced a rather well-
frequented thoroughfare. The back was lonely, and
bounded by an unlighted lane. He had not made a clean
jump from the window, but had hung on to the sill by his
finger tips — the marks of the fingers were plainly dis-
cernible in the green, damp dirt that spread itself over the
stonework — then he had dropped, and in so doing his
clothes had caught the brier and come to grief. There
were shreds of cloth on the bush, a waistcoat button on the
ground, together with the little silver badge and the
attached morsel of chain. The fugitive presumably had
been wearing that badge round his neck when he and it
were rudely separated by the spikes of the brier tree as he
dropped to the groimd.

Needless to say. Trill took charge of these trifles ; the
shreds of cloth, the waistcoat button, and the badge and
morsel of chain. He knew the possibility of their proving

92 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

agents whereby the criminal might be identified. His
next step was to go to the Bank of England, but not a
scrap of information was forthcoming there likely to be of
any value ; but it was difierent at the restaurant. To the
astonishment of the people who kept it, when Miss Thorne
put in an appearance on that particular day, she was accom-
panied by a gentleman. They were astonished, because
never before during all the years she had used the place had
she had anyone with her. He, too, had a sumptuous dinner
and a pint of sherry, and topped it with two whiskies hot.
The lady paid for the repast, taking a brand new five-pound
note from a bundle of them which she carried in a little
satchel attached to her belt.

The man was described as being about forty-five years
of age, somewhat powerfully built. He was partially bald.
His hair and whiskers, of which he had a little patch on
each side of his face, were reddish, plentifully mixed with
grey. He was fairly well dressed, and might have been
anything almost, from a stockbroker to a small shopkeeper
or even a 'bus driver. Miss Thorne and this man left
together, and after that it was diflScult to trace their move-
ments. Whether she went straight to her house accom-
panied by the man or not was not known. Trill's theory
was that the two did go to Hampstead to her residence
together, but whether that was so or not, it was of the
highest importance to the inquiry that the man who dined
at the restaurant with Miss Thorne should be discovered.
If he were an honest and guiltless man, he would come
forward ; and to put the matter to the test advertisements
were inserted in most of the leading papers in the kingdom,
but failed to produce any result. Then a description of
the man, gathered orally from the people of the restaurant,
was posted outside every police station in the United King-
dom, but still there was never a sign given, and the in-
ference was that the man had a powerful reason for
concealing himself.

Three months passed, and during that time Trill
exerted all his skill to try and get on the track of the

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 93

murderer, but failed. There wasn't a sign to guide him,
look which way he would, and the cleverest sleuth-hound is
at fault unless it can obtain a scent. But one day it came
to Trill's notice that the previous evening a man under the
influence of liquor had been arrested in the Strand for a
gross and unprovoked assault on a woman. He had been
taken to Bow Street, and on being searched a silver badge,
shield shape, and bearing the figure ^ 5,' had been found on
him, together with some papers. This was a remarkable
coincidence, and it aroused Trill to increased efibrt. It was
pretty evident that the badge found at Miss Thome's
house at Hampstead and the one worn by the Bow Street
prisoner had some connecting significance. The fellow at
Bow Street resolutely refused to give his address, but said
his name was David Lambert, and that he was a sailor, but
had not been to sea for some time. He had a purse in his
pocket containing a well-worn bank note for five pounds,
and about six pounds in coins. His papers had no signifi-
cance, and afforded no clue. When the fellow came before
the magistrate the charge was fully proved against him,
but as he ofiered the woman whom he assaulted five pounds
as compensation, he got ofT with the light sentence of
twenty-one days' imprisonment.

Trill resolved never to lose sight of that man until he
had run him to earth, and when the prisoner was released
after serving his time Trill became his shadow, and tracked
him to a house in a low street out of RatcliflF Highway, in
the neighbourhood of the docks. The house was a common
lodging-house, and was kept by a Chinaman named Ah
Lung. The only information this Chinaman could give
was that his lodgers came and went, and he knew nothing
about them but that for the most part they were seafaring
men. The man who had been imprisoned as * David
Lambert ' was known at the lodging-house as Peter Shaw.
He had resided there off and on nearly eighteen months,
but sometimes had been absent for weeks together. He
occasionally indulged in drinking bouts, and at such times
became very quarrelsome, and, if opposed, violent. These

94 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

outbursts^ however, were not frequent. Although Peter
Shaw, if that was his real name, in no way answered to the
description of the man wanted for the murder of Miss
Thome, being very dark and burly, with no hair on his £ice,
and marks on his head. Trill felt certain that he had at last
struck a trail which would lead to important results, and he
never took his eyes, so to speak, off Shaw.

On the third day after his release from prison, and at
about eight o'clock at night, Peter Shaw strolled into
Whitechapel and got into an omnibus going west. He
alighted at the Mansion House, and then got on to another
'bus crossing London Bridge. This 'bus proceeded down
the Boro', and Shaw got off* at the corner of Kent Street.
From time immemorial Kent Street had borne an unenviable
reputation, and even at the present day it is one of the most in-
salubrious and most evil thoroughfares in the Modern Babylon.
Its houses for the most part are old ramshackle places, and
the tenants, men, women, and children, with few exceptions,
are outrages on God's image. Many a dark and blood-curd-
ling crime has been committed in Kent Street, and many a
ruffian has been dragged from its shelter to end his miserable
life on the gallows. The old proverb that ^ Birds of a
feather flock together ' was never more strikingly illustrated
than it is in Kent Street, for, remarkable as it may seem to
those unacquainted with the peculiar clannishness of criminals,
hither ruffianism gravitates, and men and women of the most
repulsive type make the dens which abound in the street
their homes, as they have so made them for generations, and
this notwithstanding that they are fully aware that they
are subject to the unpleasant attentions of the police.
Many of the houses are used as cheap lodging-houses,
and tramps and vagrant men and women come and
go. There are blind alleys and foul-smelling passages, deeply
recessed doorways and rotting staircases. The alleys and
passages are tolerably well lighted now, and keen police
supervision is exercised ; nevertheless it is impossible to get
rid of the vermin — that is, the human vermin. The land-
lords of the various hovels make money out of their dilapidated

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 95

and filthy places, and, as they have vested interests, it is not
easy to disturb them. Where leases fall in, improvements
do take place, but necessarily the progress is only slow.

At the period of the story, Kent Street was a region to
be remembered when once seen. Any respectable person
who had had the hardihood to have explored it must for a
long time after have suffered from a sort of nightmare, and
been haunted with the images of ghoullike men and women,
also children who were not like children but demons.
Indeed, it was a kind of Inferno, where the harlot, the thief,
and the murderer herded together, and inflamed themselves
into frenzy by the vilest of drink. And scenes were enacted
in it that must have made the angels of Heaven weep.

When Shaw alighted from the 'bus, he stood for some
time at the corner of Kent Street, and prowled about as if ex-
pecting someone. This gave Trill an opportunity to secretly
put a policeman on his guard, and to teU him to communi-
cate with other policemen doing duty in the neighbourhood.
Trill took this precaution so that in the event of his having
to summon assistance it would be forthcoming.

If Shaw really expected to meet anyone he must have
been disappointed, for no one spoke to him. So, presently,
he proceeded leisurely along Kent Street, until about half-
way down he stopped at the mouth of a passage, which was
spanned by a single brick archway. Immediately opposite,
or almost immediately opposite, was a street lamp, but its
light was too feeble to illuminate the passage, which was as
dark as Erebus. For three or four minutes Shaw stood
glancing first one way and then another. It was pretty
clear now that he was vigilant and cautious. Nevertheless,
one still more vigilant and cautious than he watched him.
That one was Vincent Trill. At length Shaw must have
felt satisfied that all was clear, for he dived into the passage
and was swallowed up by the darkness. Trill followed swifuy
and silently, but his quarry was lost to him. Shaw had
evidently disappeared up one of the two stairways which
started in the passage and gave access to two different houses,
one on the right and one on the left. As both these stair-

96 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

ways were in total darkness, and no sound came from them,
it was difficult to say which one Shaw had taken. Under
these circumstances there was nothing for it but to wait, for
sooner or later he would probably come forth again. Three
hours passed. It was a long and wearying vigil, but Trill
iaithfuUy kept it, and was rewarded at last by observing
Shaw emerge from the gloom of the passage, and he was
quickly followed by another man, and another and another,
and then the four walked rapidly down the street, and went
into a public-house and called for refreshment.

One of these four seemed to rivet Trill's attention. He
was a medium-sized man, stoutly built, with a sallow face,
and reddish hair inclining to grey. He had a full, short
beard that concealed his chin, while a moustache fell over
his lips. Nevertheless, in spite of this concealment of the
lower part of his face. Trill felt drawn towards him by some
inexplicable fascination. It seemed to him, somehow, as if
he had met the man before. The fellow came vaguely and
shadowy out of the past, and appeared before Trill as an
image that at some time or other had been familiar to him.
Then suddenly, swiftly, it occurred to the detective that he
had never seen the man in the flesh until that moment ; but
he had built him up jn his mind's eye from description, and
that in spite of the alteration in the face by the growth of
beard and moustache, there was something which to the
keen eyes of Trill was convincing, and he believed that at
last he had tracked down the cruel murderer of Miss Thorne.
Anyway, whether he was right or whether he was wrong, he
resolved on a very bold move, for one thing was certain —
these four men were not engaged in legitimate business, and
some instructive information might be gleaned from them in
the interest of law and order ; so he gave the word to a
policeman who had kept near at hand, and that policeman
soon had others on the spot, until six had assembled. Then
Trill and his little force marched into the public-house, and,
to the consternation and amazement of the four men,
arrested them on a charge, got up to serve the purpose of
the moment, of having been concerned in a burglary. If

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 97

a bombshell had fallen amongst these four it could not have
caused them more surprise, for they were obviously under
the impression that they were free from observation and safe.
For an instant they made some show of resistance, but only
for an instant, as they recognised that the forces opposed to
them were too strong. And so, securely handcufied, the
four were marched to the police station, but not even Trill
dreamt then of the importance of his capture. When the
men were searched they were all found to be wearing little
silver shield-shaped badges, each one bearing a number.

Of course the men protested their innocence, declared
that they were respectable, and got their living by hawking.
In the case of Shaw, Trill knew that was fidse, and it was
soon proved to be so in the case of the others. The place
in Kent Street where Shaw had spent the evening was soon
discovered, and then some inkling of the true business of the
prisoners was got, as an immense quantity of valuable
property of all kinds was found, and it was only too evident
it was the result of robbery. The man whom Trill suspected
of being the one wanted for the murder of Miss Thorne gave
his name as Walter Unwin, but refused any further informa-
tion about himself. However, his beard and moustache were
shaved o£f and his whiskers trimmed to answer the description
of the man wanted, and then the restaurant people were
brought forward and picked him out, from two dozen others,
as being the person who dined with Miss Thorne at the
restaurant on the day when she drew her dividends, and when
she was supposed to have been murdered. So he was charged
with that crime, and was asked to account for his movements
on the day of the murder, but failed to do this. He made
many conflicting statements, and all these were found to be
untrue.

Gradually, patiently, and cleverly a chain of circumstan-
tial evidence was built up, and perhaps the most damning
link of all was the finding at his lodgings of a very peculiar
antique brooch, which was known to have belonged to the
unfortunate lady. Why the prisoner had kept it was just
one of those mysteries inseparable from criminal life. More

H

98 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

over, the buttons which had been picked up by Trill in the
garden were identical with those on an old waistcoat which
was amongst the suspected man's clothes. As the ante-
cedents of these fellows were inquired into it was found that
they were all ruffians of the worst class, and all had sufiered
previous imprisonment. But, more than that, it was brought
to light that they were members of an infamous gang known
as ^ The League of Old Pals.' Their league numbered
about twenty members, and each member paid an annual
subscription, for which he was entitled to be provided with
legal defence in case of his getting into trouble. Every
member of the league was supposed to add his share of
valuables to a common stock, which was periodically disposed
of abroad, and the proceeds shared pro rata. Every man
wore a badge whereby he was known to the gang and he
could command assistance. What may seem still more
astounding, there was a president and a secretary of this
infamous league, and a regular set of books were kept. In
one of these books was a very significant entry. It ran thus :

'Michael O'Connor, sailed for California, May lo,
i8— .'

Further on in the book was an entry pregnant with still
greater significance :

^Michael O'Connor, returned from California in the
« Ocean Star." '

On another leaf, written in red ink against his name, was
the word * Dead.'

From the information afibrded by this remarkable record
could anyone doubt that Michael O'Connor was a brutal
ruffian who foully did poor Jake Dempster to death in the
Liverpool Docks ? It was only too evident that the fiendish
gang of thieves and murderers did not confine their opera-
tions to London, but did business in all parts of the country,
and every member no doubt was under the impression that
he enjoyed a much larger measure of safety by allying
himself to this strange organisation ; and it was certain he
was able to dispose of his ill-gotten gains to much greater
advantage than he could have done as an individual, for the

THE LEAGUE OF DEATH 99

league conducted its operations in a business way, and had its
accredited agents abroad. The president turned out to be a
rascally solicitor who had been imprisoned and struck off the
Rolls for misappropriation of trust money, while the secretary
was a stockbroker's clerk, who had also sufiered imprison-
ment for fraud.

Against *Unwin/ whose real name was proved to be
Donald Watson, a Scotsman, the charge of murdering Miss
Thorne was circumstantially established, and he was duly
convicted and sentenced to death. It is satisfactory to be
able to state that just prior to his execution he admitted the
justice of his sentence. It is no less satisfactory to record
that the shameful gang was broken up and nearly every one
convicted of some ofltence, and they all suffered varying
degrees of punishment. Thus Vincent Trill added another
laurel to the many he had earned, and once again proved
himself to be the shrewdest and cleverest detective of his
time.

too RECORDS or VIXCEXT TRILL

vn

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE

A STARTLIKC RACIKG EPISODE

The main facts of this case, although weU known to all
those who take an interest in turf matters, have not hitherto
been given to the general public, for every means were
taken at the time to hush the matter up, as there were
strong reasons for preventing it becoming public property.
In recording the case it lus been deemed advisable to
substitute fictitious for real names, but all the incidents are
perfectly true. The late Lord Allcorn had two sons^ both
of whom were intended for the Church. At least it was
hit lordship's desire that they should both take holy orders,
for he was of a stern, puritanical cast of mind, and strongly
opposed to every form of worldly pleasure, however innocent.
Nevertheless, it is beyond doubt that his lordship's youthful
career was marked by excesses and a wildness which were
productive of many a scandal, and this career was rounded
oiF by a clandestine marriage with a second-rate actress,
whose only recommendation was a faultless figure and good
looks that enabled her to mould men to her will like wax.
Not onlv was she a heartless coquette, but if only half the
stories tnat were told about her at the time were true, she
must have been one of the most wicked of women. She
succeeded, nevertheless, in fiiscinating the heir to the Allcorn
title and estates, and a secret marriage was the result. Of
course, his family were outraged and horrified when they
came to know or it, and the young couple were packed off

tHE FATE OF THE FAVOlJRitE lot

abroad, where they resided for some timei and two sons

were the result of the union. As might have been expected,

the restriction which marriage imposed upon the lady did

not fit in with her views of enjoying life, and very soon the

delighters in scandal were gratified to the top of their bent. Of

course, a separation was the inevitable consequence, and a

very handsome allowance was made to the lady on condition

that the father had the sole up-bringing of the children. She

did not long survive, however, to enjoy her fortune, as one

night after a bal maiqud at the Grand Op^ra, in Paris, she,

having supped not wisely but too well, slipped in descending

the marble escalier, the heel of her shoe having caught in

some lace partly torn from her dress. She fell with great

force, her head coming in contact with the marble steps. She

was picked up insensible, and died twelve hours afterwards.

A few months later the young widower succeeded to the

title and estates ; from that moment he seemed to become

an absolutely changed man, and abandoned himself to a

religious austerity which was gloomy and in some respects

revolting. Between his two sons there was only a difference

in age of about fifteen months, but in disposition they were

totally unlike. The eldest, Reginald Duke John, inclined

to gaiety and pleasure, while his brother was studious,

thoughtful, and gloomy. Lord AUcorn himself died from

the effects of a severe chill while he was still a young man

and his heir was only just turned eighteen years of age.

When the youthful lord reached his majority and obtained

possession of his estates, he burst himself free from irksome

restraints and bonds and gave up all idea of the Church, much

to the horror and disgust of his brother William.

The new Lord AUcorn, being wealthy, soon found himself
the centre of a coterie which fawned upon and flattered him.
It was pointed out to him that he should lead the life of a
man of fashion and wealth, and thoroughly enjoy his high
estate. In this respect his lordship wanted no advice ; he
had already in a rough way mapped out his own career, and
as the turf exercised an irresistible fascination over his mind
he went in for a racing stud, and did this on such a lavish

102 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

scale that his establishment was probably not excelled in the
whole country.

For a good many years Lord AUcorn seemed to find in
horse-racing a delight which nothing else in the world could
afford him, and there was no better known or more honour-
able man on the turf, and certainly no man ever did more
than he to raise the tone of horse-racing.

As an owner of horses he was not a success. Whether
it was ill-luck, want of judgment, or through listening to
bad advisers, it is difficult to say ; but the fact remains that
he never succeeded in gratifying his ambition by winning a
great race, nor were his winnings equal to his losses, but he
always looked forward hopefully to the day when by a big
haul he might recoup himself for all. This day seemed to
be within measurable distance when he became the owner of
the filly Yellow Stocking. She was descended from magni-
ficent stock and a race of winners ; while judges declared
that she was the most promising piece of horseflesh in Great
Britain. She had already done wonderful things. Lord
AUcorn paid the enormous sum of 15,000/. for her, and there
were those who declared she was cheap at that. It is need-
less to say this costly animal was well looked after, and
immense things were expected of her ; it was predicted, in
fact, that when her owner liked to run her she would carry
off the blue ribbon of the turf, and take her place in the
long list of Derby winners. That was Lord AUcorn's dream,
the height of his ambition, and at last she was entered for
the great race. When it became known that she was to
run for the Derby there was immense excitement in turf
circles ; as, in her preliminary canters, experts professed to
see a dead-sure winner in the promising filly. The touts,
hangers-on, and spies for the various sporting journals
watched her every movement and chronicled it in their
respective papers. Seldom had there been anything like
the excitement that there was over this horse, and as the day
for the race drew near, it was looked upon as a foregone
conclusion that it would be practically a walk-over for
Yellow Stocking.

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE 103

It wanted but a week to the great day when a report
flew over the electric wires to the furthest ends of the
land that Yellow Stocking was dead. The first information
was to the eiFect that the filly, after being exercised during
the morning, was safely placed in her stable, and the usual
precautions taken to guard against foul play. Nevertheless,
many hours later, one of the stable hands on duty heard
a peculiar noise, and called the attention of Mr. Matthews,
the trainer, to it. Investigation revealed the fact that
Yellow Stocking was suffering and in great pain. The
veterinary surgeon was immediately summoned, but before
he had time to get to the stable the favourite was dead.

This account was substantially correct, though some of
the details were inaccurate. An amended version of the
afiair was that a stable lad first heard the peculiar noise,
and called the attention of Jim BuUen to it. Bullen was
in charge of the stables that night, and had two men and
two lads under him. He had been lying down on some
sacks in a corner of the saddle room, and was annoyed at
being disturbed, and took no steps to ascertain the cause of
the noise. But presently there came from Yellow Stocking's
stall a scream that was half human. For some moments
the men seemed to be so stricken with fear that they
stared at each other in blank amazement, as if each was
waiting for the other to take the initiative. At length,
Bullen seized the keys, and, leading the way with a
lighted lantern, dashed into the stalls followed by the
others. Yellow Stocking was then stretched upon the
ground, and was quite motionless. The Wet.' was sent
for, but he could do nothing, for the filly was stone
dead.

When the news of the filly's death was confirmed, the
sensation amongst the public was extraordinary. It could
hardly have been greater, for the time being, if the sudden
death of her Majesty the Queen had been reported. Yellow
Stocking had been so much talked about. The name had
been familiarised to almost everyone, and even people who
took no interest in horse-racing had heard of this

104 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

wonderful youngster, for which a fortune had been paid bjr
Lord Allcorn, who was very popular, owing to the pluck
and enterprise he had always shown, no less than for his
upright and honourable conduct. It was said he had done
more than any man of his time to clear away much of the
odium attaching to horse-racing.

A post-mortem examination placed it beyond doubt
that the death of Yellow Stocking was due entirely to
poison, and there was reason for supposing that the poison,
together with a quantity of finely-ground glass, had been
administered by means of a bran mash.

As may be supposed. Lord Allcorn himself was in a
terrible state of mind ; for, apart from the heavy sum he had
paid for the fiUy, he had set his hopes on winning a Derby
with her, and for him to have won a Derby meant a replen-
ishing of his somewhat depleted coffers. Without loss of
time he secretly brought Vincent Trill into the case, and
declared that, cost what it would, he would leave no stone
unturned to discover and punish the perpetrator of the
fiendish cruelty.

The stables in which the foul deed was done belonged
to his lordship, and there were six other horses besides
Yellow Stocking there at the time of the crime. They were
all more or less valuable, but there had been no attempt to
injure them, and therefore the poisoning of Yellow Stocking
showed a malicious and deliberate design to prevent Lord
Allcorn winning the Derby,

The most cursory examination made it evident that
the criminal must have been very well acquainted indeed
with the run of the stables. They had been arranged and
built with a special regard to the safety of the animals
stationed there. They formed three sides of a small quad-
rangle, the fourth side being filled up by the trainer's and
stablemen's houses, with a central arch and massive iron gate.
The only communication with the stables from the outside
was through the archway or the trainer's house, which had
a doorway feeing a private road. At the back of the block
of buildings was a wood, covering about six or seven acres ;

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE 105

for the rest there was nothing but open and rolling country
for miles.

It was a natural consequence that the stable hands
should iall under suspicion. A Mr. Fred Matthews was
the trainer and was in charge of the establishment. Living
with him in the house already mentioned were his wife, his
daughter, a pretty girl aged about twenty-two, and his son,
a young lad about sixteen. In addition, there were two
female servants. * Jim ' BuUen was the chief stableman.
When any important horse was in the stables Jim was sup-
posed to exercise increased vigilance, and on the night
that Yellow Stocking was so cruelly done to death, Jim
was in the harness or saddle room, and had with him two
men and two lads. The lads were apprentices, but the men
were casual hands, and had only been in Lord Allcorn's ser-
vice a little over three weeks. They had, however, been in
the employment for several years of a wealthy and well-
known tradesman, who kept a racing establishment in the
neighbourhood. They had left him because he was giving
up racing owing to a domestic bereavement, and was going
to travel abroad. Their late master gave these men excel-
lent characters. BuUen, who was a middle-aged man, had
been about the Heath from his earliest childhood. In fact,
he first saw the light within a few miles of it. He was
well known ; and, with the exception that he occasionally
had a drinking bout, was in every way regarded as a well-
behaved and exceedingly honest man. After a few days'
patient and exhaustive investigation. Trill came to the con-
clusion that there was no reason to suspect these men as
being parties to the crime. It was pretty evident that no
one would have aided and abetted the chief criminal, even
indirectly, unless he had been well paid for his services,
and when men in their station of life unexpectedly
acquire what to them is wealth, they are almost sure to
betray themselves. But no sign was forthcoming in this
respect, although Trill carefully watched for it. Although
the freedom of these men from any guilty knowledge
yf2iS primd facie clearly established, it was obvious that the

io6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

person who did the deed must have had a confederate
amongst the personnel of the establishment. If that con-
federate was not to be found in the ranks of the inferiors,
he must be sought among the superiors. So argued Trill,
and he shaped his course accordingly.

Firstly, there were Fred Matthews, his wife, a buxom
woman, only a little on the wrong side of forty, their
daughter Lydia, an exceedingly pretty but rather flighty
young woman, excessively fond, so rumour had it, of
dress and jewellery. A garrulous old lady who kept a
small huckster's shop in the neighbouring village was ex-
cited, in expressing her opinion of Miss Matthews, at the
mere incidental mention of the young lady's name.

* She,' exclaimed the dame with a tremendous emphasis
on the ^ she,' and a severely critical expression of face ;
' she is a beauty, she is ; one would think she wur a fine
lady the way she gives herself airs. And for a gel like
her, what's only the daughter of a horse trainer, to wear
the clothes and joolery she does ! Well, it's disgraceful,
that's what it is. I couldn't a done no sich thing when I
wur a gel. But ther. Lor' bless yer, there ain't no telling
what gels is a-comin' to nowadays.'

The other members of the Matthews' household were
the son, a reserved, quiet, well-behaved youth, and two
domestics, a woman of nearly fifty, who did the cooking,
and a young girl of about nineteen.

I have already said that Trill had definitely decided
in his own mind that there were no grounds for sus-
pecting Bullen or his mates. Of course he had the
advantage of talking to these men and boys, and of
closely scrutinising them, as in his apparently aimless and
dreamy way he plied them with questions, and the convic-
tion came to him that they were innocent. Nevertheless,
no stranger could have gained access to the stables without
the connivance of somebody connected with the establish-
ment. He was, therefore, forced to seek the someone in
Mr. Matthews' household. Matthews himself was almost
out of his mind with grief and distress. If he was acting a

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE 107

part in this respect, his acting was very cleverly done.
Assuming that Matthews had been in financial difficulties,
it was easy to suppose that he might have been tempted
to crime by the olFer of a heavy bribe. But Trill
secretly ascertained that he was well off. He had a large
balance standing to his credit in the local bank, and was
free from all financial worries. His wife was a mild, fiissy,
good-natured, genial woman, and to associate her with such
a crime, even in theory, seemed absurd. As for the two
domestics, it was next to impossible that they could have
had any hand in the crime, either directly or indirectly.
That there was a traitor in the camp was certain, but
that traitor was somebody having freedom of action, and not
subject to the restrictions usually imposed in such an esta-
blishment, and under such circumstances. This was Trill' 3
line of argument, and though on the first blush it might
have appeared preposterous, he came to the conclusion that
Lydia Matthews wasn't ignorant of the way the deed had
been accomplished. It was, of course, a startling theory,
and he kept it to himself.

There were many minor reasons for this conclusion,
but the chief one was that Lydia, as he ascertained, was
a perfectly free agent. That is to say, being of full age,
self-assertive and independent, she did very much as she
liked, free from any great amount of controlling influence
of her parents. It was only natural, perhaps, that as the
daughter of a trainer she should be interested in horse-
flesh, and she bore the reputation of being an excellent
judge of a horse. She rode well, and was the owner of
a fine animal which her father had presented to her. This
horse occupied a loose-box at the end of the stables, to
which she had access at any time. It has already been
stated that there was post-mortem evidence that the poison
which finished oflF Yellow Stocking had been administered
to her through the medium of a bran mash. A large
metal basin bore the remains of a bran mash, but that in-
dicated nothing, as it had been used by the stablemen to
give a mash to some of the other horses. But there was

io8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

one other small matter which Trill rapidly seized upon.
A bran mash is usually mixed with hot water. After the
stables had been closed for the night an intruder would
have found considerable difficulty in procuring hot water.
In this instance hot water had probably been brought into
the stable in a painted hot water can such as is used in a
private house to convey water to a bedroom. This can,
which was painted oak colour, and bore the words ^Hot
water ' on the side, was found by a stable boy in an un-
occupied stall, and he exclaimed in Trill's hearing :

* This 'ere can don't belong to th' stables.'

Trill took the can and told the boy to say nothing
more on the subject, and the youth, attaching no im-
portance to the incident, had probably dismissed it from
his mind in the course of the next half-hour. But not
so Trill. A little diplomatic questioning elicited from
Matthews' servants that the can had been taken out of
the kitchen, but who had taken it they couldn't possibly
say. None of the stablemen was ever allowed into the
kitchen. That was a point about which Mr. Matthews
was very particular. In fact, none of the stable hands had
the entri^e to the house at all. As any infringement of the
rule would have probably led to dismissal, it was pretty strictly
observed by those interested.

The suspicions that Trill entertained against Miss
Matthews were thus materially strengthened, but he did not
believe for a moment that she stood alone in the matter. He
regarded her as a mere tool who had succumbed to some
powerful influence. No mere stranger could have ap-
proached her and induced her to commit such a crime, not
even for the sake of gold, because she was far too sharp not
to see that any sudden acquisition of money on her part
would at once have laid her under suspicion. No, in Trill's
opinion the influence that had been exerted was that which a
man acquires when a woman becomes fascinated with him.

Sharp and shrewd as Lydia was in many respects, she
was silly in others. This silliness showed itself in aspira-
tions above her station, a love of finery, and frivolity of

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE 109

conduct that were almost childish. She was thoroughly at '
home amongst horses, and had a perfect command of the
slang peculiar to the stables and the turf. She had received
an orcHnary education, and had spent two years at a so-called
fashionable boarding school.

Trill's efforts were now directed to trying to discover
the girFs lover. She seemed very well known to most of
the young sprigs for miles round, and was regarded as a very
heartless sort of flirt. She went away from home a good
deal, as she was in the habit of paying frequent visits to
relatives in London, Brighton, and Southampton, and as far
as was ascertainable in an ordinary way she had no attach-
ment to anyone in particular ; but she was reputed to be
very secretive, and she kept her affairs to herself. Trill was
very careful not to alarm her, and equally careful to avoid
letting her parents know he suspected her.

The death of Yellow Stocking deprived the Derby that
year of a good deal of its interest. The gathering of people
was as great as ever, and the day lacked none of those
incidents which are so distinctive of a Derby, and which
serve to make it the most remarkable event of the racing
year ; but, nevertheless, it was counted tame and disappoint-
ing compared to what it would have been had Yellow
Stocking been able to keep her engagement, and competed
for the honour of winning the great race. It was remarked
as very significant that Lord AUcorn himself was absent,
and gossips said that, quite apart from the loss he sustained
by the death of the favourite, he had been hit very hard over
the race.

A few da}rs after the Derby had been run, a paragraph
went the round of the papers to the effect that Lord AUcorn
had been medically advised to take a long holiday, and
consequently had gone abroad, where he would remain for
at least three months. Those who pretended to be in the
* know ' whispered that his lordship's departure from England
was due to financial embarrassment, and one or two
sporting journals boldly asserted that Lord AUcorn intended
to entirely sever his connection with the turf.

no RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Previous to his departure for the Continent^ Lord
Allcorn had a long interview with Vincent Trill, and
expressed a hope that the criminal might be discovered.
His lordship said nothing about financial losses, but he did
complain of beine very cast down and out of sorts. He ex-
pected that a spell abroad would set him up. He gave Trill
carte blanche so far as the investigation of the poisoning of
Yellow Stocking went, and said he would spare no expense
to bring the criminal to justice.

The sensation caused by the death of Yellow Stocking
lasted something more than the proverbial nine days.
There were circumstances in connection with the case
which enhanced the interest, and served to keep it alive in
the public memory. But even if the public had been
inclined to readily forget it, the press generally, and the
sporting papers in particular, found it far too fruitful a theme
to abandon it, and the most sensational rumours were
published one day, to be contradicted the next. Circum-
stantial and detailed particulars were given of the running
to earth of the supposed criminal, and one day the startling
announcement was made that Lord Allcorn had shot himself
while suffering from a fit of depression due to financial
difficulties. It is needless, perhaps, to say that these stories
were the mere figments of the penny-a-liner's brain ; but the
papers took them eagerly, for almost every paper, while it
aflfects to despise sensation, lives and fattens on it.

A very considerable amount of surprise was expressed
that Vincent Trill had failed to get any clue to the perpe-
trator of the deed. But Vincent Trill never gave himself
away. He kept his thoughts to himself. He worked
silently, and it was only when he had absolutely secured
his quarry that he spoke. About a fortnight after Lord
Allcorn's departure for the Continent, Trill was in South-
ampton, and was staying at the Dolphin Hotel, in the High
Street. He was supposed to be a commercial traveller. In
the same hotel was staying a Mr. William Raymond, in
whom Trill seemed much interested. Raymond was
rather a notable-looking man. He was young, with regular

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE iii

features, and an aristocratic bearing. But his face wore a
severe and cvnical expression, due to a habitual frown and
a slight curling of the lip. He held himself aloof from
everybody in the hotel, and it was noticed that he always
brought a small Bible to the table with him and read it
studiously during the time he was partaking of his meals.
From this and his want of geniality, some of the visitors pro-
nounced him a fool, and others dubbed him a fanatic. What-
ever he was, he did not concern himself with anyone, and
seemed, in fact, to regard his fellow visitors in the hotel
with contempt. Despite his austere looks he undoubtedly
had a love for the flesh-pots, and was fond of personal com-
fort, for he lived well and invariably drank two wines at his
luncheon and dinner, and he occupied one of the best and
most luxuriously furnished rooms in the house.

If it had been announced at this time that Vincent
Trill suspected the semi-clerical, severe-looking Bible-read-
ing gentleman of knowing exactly how Yellow Stocking
was poisoned, and why she was poisoned, it is probable that
there would have been a consensus of opinion that Trill's
sagacity had failed him, and his mind had given way ; for
it did seem such a tax upon the imagination to associate
the aristocratic stranger with horse-racing, or turf matters
of any kind. So far from his appearance suggesting any
such thing, one would have been tempted to pronounce
off-hand that he was a teacher in a Suncky-school or a lay
preacher. But whatever he was, Trill's dreamy eyes
watched him with untiring vigilance, and Trill's thoughts,
like his methods, were his own.

Of course, Mr. Raymond himself had no idea that he
was an object of so much interest to the quiet, dreamy-
looking man, who seemed so reserved, and as if alwa)rs
absorbed in an inward self-contemplation. Nor could any-
one else in the house possibly have suspected it. Trill did
not hold himself aloof from the others. He played a game
at billiards, and a good game too. He smoked his cigar in
the smoking-room, and took his toddy ; but no one could
ever draw him, no one could fathom him, and neither

112 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

inquisitiveness nor curiosity could exact from him a single
hint as to who he was, where he came from, or where he
was going to. The boots referred to him as * the com-
mercial gent./ while the habituA of the billiard-room, if
discussing in his absence his merits as a player, would
probably designate him * the quiet cove,' or * the commercial
who plays such a ripping game.'

One night, about a week after Trill had taken up his
residence in the Dolphin Hotel at Southampton, a gentleman
walked up and down close to the entrance to the west pier.
He was evidently waiting for somebody. The night was
beautiful, soft, balmy, delicious. There was no wind.
The sea was as smooth as glass ; the sky was resplendent
with stars. For ten minutes or more the gentleman paced
up and down, and once he pulled forth his watch with an
impatient gesture, and looked at the time by the light from
an adjacent lamp. At last there came to him a well-dressed
lady, wearing dainty kid gloves, and a straw hat, with a
bewitching, flimsy little veil screening her fece. The two
greeted each other warmly, as lovers might, and after en-
gaging in conversation for some minutes they descended the
steps to the water, where a light boat was moored. The
gentleman handed the lady in, cast off the moorings, and
while she settled herself on the cushions in the stern sheets,
he sat on the midship thwart and plied the oars with a
practised hand, and very soon the little craft had become a
mere shadow on the star-gemmed water.

It was apparently a commonplace incident enough. A
young couple in the billing and cooing stage met by
appointment and went for a row by starlight on the sleeping
waters.

The morning after this little incident, Vincent Trill
paid his reckoning at the Dolphin, and took his departure
for London. Many days passed, when one morning the post
brought him a letter bearing the Florence postmark. The
writer was Lord AUcorn, and it was an answer to Trill who
had sent to his lordship. The substance of the letter was
as follows :

THE FATE OF THE FAVOURITE 113

^For God's sake do not let the discovery you have
made become public. Hush it up, and let the whole
business be for ever regarded as an unsolved mystery. I am
appalled and dumbfoundered. It seems to me as if the
iniquity of human nature could reach no deeper depth. I
will be in England almost as soon as this letter, and will
then discuss the situation with you. But in the meantime
do not breathe to living soul a word of what you have
learnt. Yours faithfully,

* Allcorn.'

Vincent Trill had indeed made a startling discovery,
and it is necessary to explain how this discovery came
about.

When his suspicions fastened on Lydia Matthews, he
necessarily became deeply interested in everything that
concerned her, and he came to know that she was in the
habit of receiving letters addressed to her at the little post
ofEce at a village ten miles from her residence. She always
called for these letters herself, and it was noted by the old
lady who conducted the post office business that the enve-
lopes of the letters which Miss Lydia was always so eager
to get bore a crest and motto. Trill was shown one of the
letters that was waiting to be fetched, and he made a note
that the crest was a mailed hand clasping a naked dagger,
with the motto

*SI FRACTUS FORTIS.*

His astonishment was great when he learnt that the
crest and motto were those of Lord Allcorn's family, and
it came as a revelation to him. He at once set to work
on new lines, and, believing that the end always justified the
means, he one day employed a trusted messenger to bear a
note ostensibly written by Miss Lydia Matthews to the
postmistress at the village post office, requesting her to
hand any letters she might have for Miss Matthews to the
messenger. There was only one letter, but it was given
up. It was worded as follows :

I

n

114 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

* My dear Lydia, — I am glad to hear you are going to
Southampton. I will meet you there, and we can talk
matters over. I always put up at the Dolphin Hotel when
I am in Southampton. I shall leave London on Monday
next. — Yours ever affectionately,

* William Raymond.'

This note, which had been carefully opened, was care-
fully reiastened and sent by hand to Lydia at her father's
residence. It was, perhaps, rather a risky proceeding, but
fortunately her suspicions were not aroused.

From the first Trill came to the conclusion that the
writer of the note had no legitimate claim to the name of
* Raymond.' Otherwise, why did he use the AUcorn crest
and motto ? And a little investigation revealed to Trill
the startling fact that ^ William Raymond ' was none other
than his lordship's own brother. Lord Allcorn's feelings
may be better imagined than described when this discovery
was made, and as soon as he returned to London he and
Trill had an interview with Lydia in the presence of her
father and mother. Under the fear of exposure and prose-
cution, she confessed with wailings and tears that * William
Raymond,' whom she never suspected of being Allcorn's
brother, though she knew he belonged to the aristocracy,
sought her out, and made professions of love to her, but he
confessed that he was strongly opposed to horse-racing, and
considered Lord Allcorn a desperately wicked man, who
was ruining himself and his family. Raymond posed as a
devout Christian, and gained such an influence over the girl
that he persuaded her into administering the fatal dose to
the horse, he himself supplying the poison.

When the criminal was asked to confirm or deny this
statement, he at once confirmed it ; but, fanatic as he was,
he sought to justify it on moral grounds. He said that he
considered horse-racing the pastime of the devil, and that
any means were justifiable to prevent his brother going
to perdition. When asked if he intended to marry Lydia

THE FATE OF TtlE FAVOURITE 115

Matthews he prevaricated and would give no direct answer,
though he declared that he was very fond of her.

It was but natural that Lord Allcorn should object to
carry the matter into a court of law, but he only refrained
from so doing on condition that his half-crazy brother
betook himself to some other country and remained there.
This William consented to do, and later on, as if to spite his
brother, he prevailed on Lydia to join him, and he made
her his wife. Soon afterwards Lord Allcorn himself married,
and in the process of time three sons came to bless his
union, so that William's chances of succeeding to the title
were very remote.

The death of Yellow Stocking was a bitter blow to
Lord Allcorn, and he ceased to take any prominent part in
turf matters, greatly to the regret of an immense number
of people who knew him to be a thoroughly upright and
honourable gentleman who loved sport for sport's sake.

X 2

1x6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

VIII
THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL

The gentleman whose name figures at the head of this
record was probably of Dutch extraction. He was a native
of New York, though domiciled in London, where he had
resided for some years, and had taken out letters of naturali-
sation. He was the European representative of, and partner
in, the well-known firm of hardware manufacturers —
JeflFerson, Chantrey, Spiel and Co., of New York.

Mr. Spiel was in the early prime of life. He was a
handsome, well-built man, who dressed with scrupulous
smartness and care, lived like a prince, and was extremely
popular in literary, musical, artistic and cultured Bohemian
circles. He had dabbled in literature himself, could paint
passably, was a good amateur musician, and, being richly
endowed with the world's gear and admittedly a good fellow,
his company was much sought after.

Mr. Spiel was a bachelor, and occupied a very hand-
somely furnished flat in South Kensington, where he resided
in lonely splendour. His ordinary wants were attended to
by a young mail who served him as valet, and a staid, sedate,
matronly woman who acted as housekeeper, looked after his
wardrobe, and kept a watchful eye generally on his establish-
ment. When at home he entertained in a lavish manner,
and his suppers and musical reunions were attended by
prominent literary men, artists, actors, and musicians. He
travelled a good deal, however, on behalf of his firm, and
was almost as well known in Edinburgh and Glasgow, in

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 1x7

Liverpool and Manchester, in Birmingham and Sheffield as
he was in London. Twice a year for many years he had
been in the habit of returning to New York to consult
with his partners and look into matters generally.

He had just returned from one of these periodical visits,
and was in the best of health and excellent spirits, and as
was his custom after his return to London he was arranging
for a pretty big gathering of friends, and to that end had
instructed Mrs. Weedon — that was his housekeeper's name
— to send out the cards of invitation. Mr. Spiel's business
offices were situated in Lombard Street, and here he kept a
large staff of clerks to deal with the orders and correspondence,
which necessarily was very extensive. One day on leaving
for the city he told Mrs. Weedon that he would dine at
home that evening with two friends, and bade her prepare a
recherche little dinner. He had been back from America
just a week, and seemed to be not only in remarkably good
health, but in unusually high spirits. As a rule, he was an
exceedingly cheerful man ; he was very fond of life, was
full of broad human sympathy, was kindly disposed towards
everyone, and was known to be liberal-handed, and many a
struggling fellow-mortal was indebted to him for substantial
assistance. It almost goes without saying that surprise
should be felt that such a man chose to lead a single life.
Rich, good-looking, and healthy, how was it he did not take
unto himself a wife ? That expressed the general feeling of
his friends, but it was a subject about which he would
permit no discussion ; and if anyone indiscreetly ventured
to ask him why he preferred bachelorhood he would prcnnptly
reply, curtly, that it was in accordance with his tastes.
Nothing seemed to irritate him so much as that one ques-
tion ; and yet it was well known that he was a favourite
with ladies, paid them great attention, was fond of their
society, and always treated them with knightly courtesy.
More than one designing mother had endeavoured by every
means in her power to capture him for her daughter, but
failure, and sometimes ignominious failure, was invariably
the result of these efforts,

ii8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

On the day he had instructed Mrs. Weedon to prepare
dinner for hioaself and two friends, he telegraphed to her
soon after he got to the city to say that she was not to
trouble about the dinner, as he found he would be detained
in the city longer than he expected, and was wiring his
friends to that effect.

He did not reach home until past midnight. He let
himself in with his latchkey, and as his servants had orders
not to sit up for him when he was late, he was surprised to
find Mrs. Weedon still about ; and on his inquiring why she
had not retired, she stated that the lady who occupied
the flat above in company with her husband had been
taken suddenly ill about eight o'clock, and had sent down
to Mr. Spiel's chambers to borrow a little brandy. ^ Un-
fortunately,' added Mrs. Weedon, * there was none in the
decanter on the sideboard, and I found you had inadvertently
taken the keys of the wine closet away with you. However,
I went and purchased some, and have been sitting with her
ever since.'

^ Is she better ? ' inquired Mr. Spiel, with ill-concealed
anxiety.

* I think so ; but she was very restless when I left her a
quarter of an hour ago.'

* Is her husband with her ? '

^ He is now ; but he only came in as I was coming
away.'

Mr. Spiel told his housekeeper that she could go to bed,
and when she had retired he put on a smoking jacket and
cap, exchanged his boots for slippers, and, having procured a
bottle of brandy from his store, he went upstairs to his
neighbour's fiat, and in response to his knock the door was
opened by the husband, who at once admitted him. Mr.
Spiel's neighbour was a young man, not more than about
five-and-twenty. He was an American. His name was
Conrad Gifibrd. He was desirous of perfecting himself as
an artist, and had come to England to study art. His wife
was very much younger than he was — 2. mere girl, in fact,
and of singular beauty. They had been married nearly two

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 119

years but were childless, Mr. and Mrs, Gifiord and Mr*
Spiel were on terms of close intimacy, and Spiel took great
interest in the young couple.

It was striking two o'clock when Mr. Spiel left the
Giffbrd apartment, and from that moment the mystery
began. Let it be remembered that he was in slippers,
smoking jacket, and cap.

The next morning about the usual hour — that was, eight
o'clock — Mrs. Weedon, in accordance with her invariable
rule, prepared a cup of excellent cofFee and a delicate slice
of thin toast, and sent them to the master's bedroom by
Thomas Finch, the young man who acted as his valet.
A few minutes later Finch entered the kitchen hurriedly
and looking a little alarmed.

*The governor's not in his room, and the bed ain't
been slept on,' he exclaimed to Mrs. Weedon.

^ Well, I'm not surprised. I suppose he stayed upstairs
all night with the GiiFords. He will be down directly, no
doubt.'

The housekeeper and the valet busied themselves with
various duties until nine o'clock ; then Weedon sent Finch
up to the Gifibrds to inquire if Mr. Spiel intended to
breakfast there. Very soon Finch came back with the
startling news that the * governor * left there at two o'clock
in the morning.

Mrs. Weedon was necessarily alarmed now, because she
knew that her master had gone out in his slippers and
smoking jacket ; therefore he could have had no intention
of proceeding elsewhere than to his own apartments
when he left the GifFords. She at once hurried upstairs and
discussed the situation with the GiiFords, who manifested
great distress and anxiety. Mr. Spiel was such a regular
and punctilious sort of man that his disappearance could not
be regarded calmly. Mrs. Gifford, in particular, was
almost hysterical with grief, and begged her husband to
proceed at once to Scotland Yard and inform the police.
But GifFord said that such an extreme measure was hardly
justified at that sta^e, and counselled patience, Bi^t when

120 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

noon came without bringing a sign of the missing man,
and a telegram arrived from his chief clerk, inquiring if he
intended to go to the ofEce, as there were important business
matters waiting his prompt attention, it was decided that
the time had come for some steps to be taken, and Mr.
Gii&rd started at once for Scotland Yard. As soon as in-
formation had been lodged inquiries were set on foot, and a
prominent member of the force waited on the GifFords and
Mrs. Weedon, and plied them with a string of questions
bearing principally on the missing gentleman's habits and
tastes. At first he was not disposed to take a very serious view
of the case. * Bachelor gentlemen do some very queer
things sometimes,' he s^piently remarked. But when it
was impressed upon him, both by Mrs. Giflbrd and Mrs.
Weedon, that the subject of the inquiry was a gentleman
of most methodical and regular habits, whose conduct was
above suspicion, the prominent member of the force changed
his opinion, and declared that there was * something fishy
about the business.'

Three days passed without a sign, and some ubiquitous
reporter, having got hold of the bare facts as stated so far,
proceeded without a moment's loss of time to make sensa-
tional copy out of it. The majority of Mr. Spiel's numer-
ous friends thus learnt the state of matters for the first
time, and so greatly were they alarmed that Vincent Trill
was asked to try and trace the missing man, who was far
too prominent a member of society to be allowed to dis-
appear quietly.

At this point it is d propos that a few words should be
devoted to Vincent Trill, who was singularly unlike the
commonly accepted type of the detective. He was a lightly
built man, of medium height, inclining to baldness, although
on the right side of forty. His smooth-shaven face was
suggestive of the priest in its mild, benignant expression.
He was slow in his movements, deliberate in his speech ;
and there was a certain dreaminess in his soft brown eyes
which was calculated to lead a stranger to think that he was
^ visionary, ^zin^ ever into the future, and knowing

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 121

nothing of the present. But rarely indeed does a man
belie his outward appearance in so marked a manner as
Trill did. It was wonderful how little really escaped those
dreamy brown eyes, while the somewhat prominent nose
and the firm mouth gave some indication to the character
reader of Trill's wonderful capability of perseverance, and
his dogged determination. When once Vincent Trill had
determined on a line to follow, nothing short of death could
have prevented him following it. Not only had he been
born with the peculiar gifts which are indispensable to the
man who would distinguish himself as a solver of human
puzzles, but long training and great experience had perfected
him in his art.

In the initial stages of his inquiry respecting Mr. Spiel's
strange disappearance, he was at pains to get thoroughly
reliable information about Mr. Spiel's habits and tastes.
Mrs. Weedon, who believed that her master was perfect,
spoke enthusiastically, and described him as being without a
blemish. Regarding her information as biassed. Trill went
to other quarters, with the result of getting information in
the main corroborative of all the faithful housekeeper had
said.

The case now assumed more serious aspects, and the
logical deduction was that there had been foul play, but
that at once presented a knotty problem to Trill. For
Mr. Spiel was admitted on all sides to be a ^ level-headed
man,* and not likely to be carried away by any passing
whim or fancy. He had gone up to his neighbour's rooms
with his jacket, smoking cap, and slippers on. It was
pretty evident, therefore, that he had no original intention
of proceeding elsewhere. Every night, at midnight, the
main door of the building, communicating with the street,
was shut, and the porter, who was on duty all day, retired
for the night. Any resident coming after twelve had to
let himself in with a latchkey ; and, of course, anyone
wishing to go out had no difficulty in opening the door
from the inside. The GifFords asserted that Mr. Spiel left
them at two o'clock to go down to his own apartments.

122 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Mrs. Gifford was in bed. She had been in bed for hours,
and Spiel had sat beside her. When he bade her good-
night, he went with GifFord into the dining-room, where
they smoked a cigarette and had something to drink. They
were in the dining-room nearly half an hour. When
GiiFord opened the door for his guest to depart, the landing
was in partial gloom. Only a glimmer of gas was left
burning on each landing. Silence reigned throughout the
building, and as Spiel had only to descend one storey, a
minute would have sufficed for him to reach his own rooms.
But it was pretty evident he did not go to his own rooms,
and must have descended straight to the street and have
gone out.

This at once suggested the startling question — Why
had he gone out ?

There was a unanimity of opinion that he was a
strikingly cheerful man. He was very well off, had no
business cares, no domestic troubles. Few human beings,
indeed, are so blessed as Mr. Spiel was. His life was serene
and bright, and he seemed to lack nothing that could tend
to make him perfectly happy. An intimate medical friend,
who had known him for years, declared that he was a
thoroughly sound and healthy man, who had been often
heard to state that he had never had a headache, and
scarcely knew what a pain was. The same medical
authority also expressed a very firm opinion that Spiel, or
all men he knew, was the least likely to become the
victim of sudden aberration, or to fall a prey to hallucinations.

All this was very decided, and left apparently no room
for the intrusion of doubt. At the same time it only
served to make the mystery still more mysterious, since no
ordinary theory could suggest a plausible reason why such
a man should have taken himself off and left no trace
behind. On the other hand, supposing he was the victim
of foul play, there must have been a conspiracy, and some
extraordinary means must have been used to lure him from
the building, since it was pretty evident that he could not
be on the preinises either living or dead. It would hav^

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 123

been impossible for his dead body to have been concealed
anywhere in the block, and just as impossible for him to be
detained as a prisoner if living.

These, then, were the difficulties that confronted Trill
in his endeavours to elucidate the mystery. In the mean-
time a long cablegram had been sent to the New York
firm explaining matters, and it brought back the following
reply :

* We are overwhelmed with grief at the news of our
partner and friend. Feel sure there has been foul play.
Spare neither trouble nor expense to discover his where-
abouts.'

Trill himself had come to the conclusion that Spiel was
the victim of foul play, as there wasn't a shadow of justifica-
tion for believing that the unfortunate man was voluntarily
absenting himself. The detective's energies were now
directed to discovering how Spiel had passed the evening
the night he disappeared. It will be remembered he had
told his housekeeper that he was going to take two friends
home to dinner, but on reaching the city he wired to say
that the dinner was to be countermanded. In his office
desk he kept a book for copies of his private telegrams, and
from this it appeared that soon after reaching the office he
wired to each of his two friends who were to have joined
him at dinner, telling them that he could not possibly keep
his engagement, as an unexpected business matter had
turned up, and it would keep him at the office until very
late. His confidential clerk told Trill, in answer to
questions, that he knew of no business matter of an unex-
pected nature, and as a matter of fact Spiel left his office at
half-past four, driving away in a hansom cab which the
office boy was sent to call. In the private desk there was
also found the following telegram :

* To-night, six-thirty. Under the Red Rose. Fail at
your peril.'

The telegram bore the date of the day of his disappear-
ance, and it had been handed in at an office in Bermondsey,
on the south side of the Thames, at eleven o'clock a,m,

124 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Vincent Trill felt now that he had struck a trail. It
was plain on the face of it that Spiel had some reason for
practising deception. Otherwise, why did he telegraph to
his friends and tell them he would be at the office till late ?
The next step was to discover the cabman who drove him
from the office on the eventful day. After some delay this
man vras found, and he remembered having * drove the gent'
from Lombard Street to London Bridge Railway Station,
where the cabman was paid his fare and dismissed. Why
did Mr. Spiel go to London Bridge Railway Station ? Trill
asked himself. Then he remembered that the mysterious
telegram bore the stamp of an office in Bermondsey. The
sender probably lived in Bermondsey, and Spiel took the
train there. Bermondsey is not a delectable quarter of
London, and many parts of it aflFord shelter to vice and crime.
Therefore Mr. Spiel had reason for not letting his visit to
the unholy neighbourhood be known, and instead of driving
to it he had taken the train. Trill also took the train and
alighted at South Bermondsey Station, and made his way to
the office where the telegram was handed in. But there he
learnt nothing. It was a busy place, and none of the clerks
could remember what the sender was like. Nor had he
given any address.

So far, then, the scent failed, but Trill was not baffled. He
felt he had got a clue ; a vague and shadowy one, it was
true, but still a clue, and Trill knew how to make the most
of it. It was a logical conclusion to come to that Spiel had
visited Bermondsey, and as he had no business relations
there he must have gone on a secret mission. And some-
body there obviously was able to exercise a remarkable
influence over him. That influence was — so Trill decided
— an evil one. Being evil. Spiel's life was not so blameless
as his friends imagined. On the night of his disappearance
he had been compelled to go to Bermondsey surreptitiously
in order to meet someone at 6.30. And * under the Red
Rose ; fail at your peril,' was a significant sentence. It
conveyed a threat, and the threat seemed to have been
effective.

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 125

Trill's next step was to return to Spiel's chambers and
again confer with Mrs. Weedon. Almost from the first
moment that he began to investigate the case, he had a
feeling that he might find the key to the mystery in the
missing man's home. Hitherto he had had very little to say
to Finch, the valet, but on this occasion he entered into a
long conversation with him, and he was rather struck by
the young man's flippancy, and the familiar way in which he
spoke of his master. Finch, although not educated, was
very &r, indeed, from being illiterate, and seemed possessed
of unusual shrewdness, sharpness, and intelligence. He made
very apparent efforts to place himself in a more important light
than his position warranted. Trill was quick to lay hold of
these points, and with an assumed artlessness he put the
following test question.

* Possibly, Finch, you know more of your master's habits
and doings than you care to disclose ? '

* Well, sir,' answered Finch with a comical pomposity,
* since you ask it, I don't mind telling you, under the rose,
that I do.'

Trill's dreamy eyes looked the speaker through and
through, and he caught eagerly at the words, * under the
rose.' In the telegram * under the Red Rose ' was used, and
now Finch repeated the words with the exception of * red.'
Was that repetition a mere coincidence, or had Finch
unconsciously given himself away ?

Trill did not betray by the slightest sign what was
passing in his mind ; but knowing full well the value of
every sign, however faint, he was not likely to be indifferent
to this. He therefore set a watch upon Finch's movements,
and this course revealed the curious facts that one evening
Mr. Conrad Gifford, the art student, and Thomas Finch,
the valet, supped together at a West End restaurant, and
that Gifford was seen to hand his companion a Bank of
England note, but the value of the note could not be
ascertained. From this incident it was perfectly clear that
between Gifford, who was supposed to be a friend of Spiel's,
and the valet, there was some secret knowledge which broke

126 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

down the barrier of social distinction and placed them on a
common level.

Up to this point TriU had not suspected Gifibrd of any
complicity in Spiel's disappearance, although from the first
he felt sure that Spiel was the victim of a conspiracy, and
that some of the conspirators must have been well acquainted
with his habits. But at last things began to shape them-
selves, and the pieces of the puzzle were coming to his
hand. What Tnll now thought was this : By some means
or other Spiel had fallen into the power of a number of men
who exercised a tyranny over him, and Gifiord and Finch
were not ignorant of that, although it was possible Finch
was only a tool.

Trill's tactics were at once changed in accordance with
the new developments. He avoided further intercourse with
GifFord and Finch, and they were led to believe he had
entirely abandoned his quest, or had become indifferent
about it. But they reckoned without their host, and did
not know the bulldog-like tenacity of the man when once he
had got a grip. He might in the end be defeated, but
defeat would have to be made unmistakably plain to him
before he accepted it. He believed firmly in the theory that
no man could propound a problem that another man could
not solve, and no one knew better than he did that in dealr
ing with human secrets it was the unexpected that generally
gave the clue. At any rate, he was always keenly on the
alert for the faintest sign, and never failed to avail himself of
it if it was given.

This watchfulness gave him at last another link to add
to the chain he was so patiently putting together. It was,
of course, the most natural thing in the world that, suspect-
ing Gifford as he did, he should be at pains to learn a good
deal of his comings and goings. He found that his conduct i

was ^y no means exemplary. He was more than a little \

wild, and tended towards dissipation. One evening he dined |

at a certain restaurant in the Strand in company with half a ^

dozen men whose twang and get-up proclaimed that they
belonged to the United States, or at least had resir'^d there* {

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 127

When they had finished dinner, during which they consumed
a good deal of cheap wine, they crowded into two four-wheel
cabs which lumbered along eastward until at London Bridge
they crossed the Thames and proceeded to Bermondsey.
After wending their way through many crowded and narrow
streets they drew up at a public-house situated in an ill«
smelling and frowsy neighbourhood, where hulking, blear-
eyed men loafed at the street corners, and dirty, s&tternly
women sat on the doorsteps, while unwashed, yelling brats
of children swarmed like rats about an ofial heap. The time
was early autumn. The night was dark and mild.

The men who had come in the cabs alighted, paid the
drivers, and entered the public-house, which bore the sign
of the Ram's Horn. They went upstairs to a large room,
evidently a club room, the entrance to which was guarded
by a janitor, who demanded a password. The password was
* Under the Red Rose.'

Vincent Trill had dined in the same restaurant as the
men, but, of course, unknown to them, he had followed the
four-wheelers in a hansom, was at the heels of the men
when they mounted the stairs to the club room, and he
heard the password given. All this he had succeeded in
doing without attracting attention, for in his movements he
was as stealthy as a leopard when occasion called for it, and
no one would have recognised Vincent Trill in the shabby-
looking old man, with iron-grey beard and moustache,
straggling grey hair, battered hat, down-at-heel boots, and
rusty ^lack coat.

The landlord of the Ram's Horn, when officially asked
the next day for some particulars of the club that was helu
in his house, stated that he knew little about it, but believed
it was a benevolent association. One thing was clear.
Conrad Gifford was a member of this precious club, and

f Giffi>rd was on terms of intimacy with Thomas Finch, and

had been seen to give Finch a considerable sum of money.

» From the telegram which had been sent to Spiel, it was no

less certain that he also had been a member of the club. Of

> course, at that stage no arrests could have been made.

128 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

because no charge could have been preferred against anyone,
and Trill resolved, therefore, to learn the truth, if possible,
from Finch, who was likely to turn traitor if he had been a
mere tool of the others. Trill began by bluntly accusing
him of being a party to Spiel's disappearance, and it was
pointed out to him that severe punishment would be meted
out if the suspicions against him should prove to be well
founded. Finch, after all, turned out to be a very weak-
minded young man, and was unable to assume the boldness
which might have enabled him to pass safely through the
ordeal he was then being subjected to. The result of that
interview was in every way satisfactory to Trill, and the
following day a warrant for Conrad Gifibrd's arrest was
issued and executed. He was charged with others, not then
known, with having forcibly abducted one Herman Spiel for
some unbwful purpose.

The arrest was so unexpected by Gifibrd that he was
thunderstruck, and within a few hours, fearing that he might
have to answer for the more serious crime of murder, he had
given such information to the authorities that Mr. Spiel
was rescued, more dead than alive, from a terrible den in one
of the worst quarters of the East End of London, where he
had been kept a close prisoner, and was in a pitiable condi-
tion when released. As he resolutely and determinedly
refused to prefer a charge against anyone, no prosecution
took place and the matter was hushed up, but the following
strange facts came to Trill's knowledge :

Conrad GifFord had allied himself to a band of desperate
adventurers, principally Irish Americans, who formed them-
selves into a secret club with the object of planning and
carrying out outrages in England and Scotland. He had
managed to persuade Spiel to become a member of the club,
though Spiel had no idea at the time of his first visit what
kind of club it was. But having once visited it he was so
far committed that he could not recede, and was solemnly
assured that if he betrayed them he would be secretly assassi-
nated. Although he had been a good friend to GifiR)rd, and
had known him from his childhood, Gifibrd was madly

THE MYSTERY OF HERMAN SPIEL 129

jealous of him, because he believed he showed far too much
attention to Mrs. Gifford. He therefore determined to have
revenge, and began by telling the members of the club that
Spiel was a traitor and meant to betray them. Spiel was,
therefore, called upon to answer for his conduct, but the
name of his accuser was not mentioned. He was summoned
to the club on the very night of his disappearance. Previous
to this GifFord had bribed Thomas Finch to act the part of
spy, and inform him (GifFord) of the number of times his
master visited Mrs. Gifford. On the eventful night four
men, members of the club— whose password was * Under
the red rose ' — were introduced into the house by Finch at
Gifford's instigation, and when Spiel left Gifford's place to
go down to his own rooms he was suddenly seized, gagged,
and overpowered, carried quickly to the street, where a cab
was waiting, and conveyed to the place where he was found ;
and it came out that the object of the criminals was to
ultimately get him confined in a private lunatic asylum.
Another strange fact that was revealed was that Mrs.
Gi£ford was Spiel's daughter, although her husband did not
know that. She had never known her mother, but her
father had always displayed the most tender regard for her.
She had been brought up in New York under the care of a
widow lady, and Spiel himself had brought her and her future
husband together, but he had his reasons for concealing his
own relationship to her.

It is needless to say, perhaps, that the infamous club was
broken up and its members dispersed. Gifford, unable to
endure the shame and ignominy of his position, returned
to America alone, as his wife refused to accompany him and
decided to remain under the protection of her father. So
ended this strange case, which at the time aroused a great
amount of interest, and served once more to give point to
the trite and true adage that * Truth is stranger than
fiction.'

130 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

IX
AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY

Harcourt & Jarvins were solicitors of the old-fashioned
class, and carried on an extensive practice under the very
shadow of the Chancery Courts in London. Here the firm
had been established for a good deal over a hundred years,
and their business dealt principally with conveyancing and
real and freehold property. T'heir clients were, for the
most part, people of position whose aflfairs were more or less
intimately known to the firm, and Harcourt & Jarvins had
probably drawn up more marriage settlements and wills than
any other firm of the same standing in the city of London.
However, it is not with these matters this story deals,
and they are simply referred to as indicating the high and
honourable position of the firm at the time the events I
have now to record occurred.

Amongst the firm's clients was a wealthy old bachelor
gentleman named Bradfield, and he had deposited with them
valuable securities to a very large amount, including some
Brazilian four per cent. State bonds. One morning the
firm received instructions from this client to sell these
bonds and purchase certain other securities which he indicated.
When the bonds were taken from the safe, where they had
been lying for some time, the managing clerk was astonished
to find that one, of the value in English money of five
hundred pounds, was missing.

The consternation caused in the ofEce by this discovery
may be imagined ; it was, so to speak, like the shock of an

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY iji

earthquake ; and Mr. Harcourt, a venerable gentleman of
seventy years of age, was almost distracted. It seemed to
him as if the loss of this bond struck at the very roots of
the firm's reputation. They were trusted to such an
extent, they were considered so sound, so reliable, that
many of their clients preferred to trust them with their
deeds rather than deposit them at their bankers'. Mr.
Harcourt, like his father before him, had been associated
with the business nearly all his manhood's life, and through-
out that long period nothing had ever happened calculated
to cast the slightest blemish on the integrity of the firm.
The employfe, like the heads of the firm themselves, were
above suspicion, and it was the pride and boast of the firm that
as the custodians of the secrets and the property of those
who did business with them no man could rise up and
justly point the finger of suspicion at them, and suggest
that they had swerved fi-om the path of honour and duty.
As may be supposed, the discovery of the loss of the bond
led to an immediate and searching investigation being made,
and the two heads, together with the old, respected, and
confidential managing clerk, held a consultation and dis-
cussed the matter in all seriousness. Twelve clerks altogether,
of varying ages, were employed, and kept pretty busy owing
to the firm's extensive connection, and the merits of each
one of these twelve clerks were carefully weighed and
examined, with the result that after long and anxious con-
sideration nothing had been suggested that would justify*
suspicion being harboured against any particular individual.
Some of the junior clerks were necessarily very young, but
one and all, old and young alike, were trusted and had the
firm's confidence. And yet there was the hard, stern feet
to fece that a valuable security was missing from what
seemed to be a perfectly safe repository. The property of
that client had not been disturbed or looked at, so fer as
was known, for some time, but it was agreed that when the
deed box containing the securities was last opened every-
thing was intact ; not a paper of any kind was missing.

How came it, then, that so important a document as a

2k

132 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

State bond could have been abstracted in the interim ?
The question was in the nature of a problem, and appa-
rently there was no possibility of a solution at that moment*
It was decided at last by the two members of the firm
and the managing clerk that all the employes should be
called into the chiefs room and questioned, for though not
one of the three cared to so much as vaguely insinuate
that one of those employ^ must have been guilty
of stealing the bond, it seemed self-evident that only a
person having a knowledge of the firm and its ways could
have taken the bond away* That is to say, a stranger
couldn't possibly have done it, for the strong room had not
been forced. When the examination and questioning of the
clerks had come to an end poor old Mr. Harcourt expressed
himself as being mystified, and he declared that he could not
conscientiously say any of his servants had aroused his mis-
givings. Indeed, one and all exhibited the greatest conster-
nation, for they prided themselves on being in the service of
a firm of such repute.

Of course, it was necessary that something should be
done. The value of the bond would at once be paid to the
client, but something more than that was required. It was
of the highest importance that the thief, if there was a thief
in the matter, should be discovered, for the confidence
hitherto existing between employers and employed was now
rudely destroyed, and could not be re-established until the
mystery had been cleared up. The employed were them-
selves emphatic in demanding that no stone should be left
unturned with a view to eliminating the thief from their
midst, if he was amongst them, for until he was found they
were all under the dark shadow of doubt, and every man felt
uneasy and miserable. At last, after many suggestions, the
managing clerk proposed that Vincent Trill should be asked
to exercise his faculties and try to weed out the black sheep.
As the partners acquiesced in this proposal Trill was sent
for and placed in possession of the fiicts^ and he undertook
to thoroughly investigate the matter. A few days later,
however, Mr. Jarvins, to the relief and surprise, no less than

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 133

the delight, of everyone, announced that he had by the
merest chance in the world discovered the missing bond
amongst a number of old, mouldy, and dust-covered legal
documents stowed away on a shelf, which were supposed not
to have been disturbed for months, if not for years. But,
sure enough, the bond was produced, and there was rejoic-
ing in consequence. Mr. Jarvins' statement was that in
searching for a paper which was known to be on the shelf,
to his amazement he saw the bond.

Now came the question, How did it get on the shelf ?
Nobody knew ; nobody could say, nobody even suggested
how ; but there was a general feeling that it had been taken
up inadvertently with other papers and unknowingly de-
posited where it was found. If that was the true explana-
tion it argued carelessness, but that was all ; and the bond
having been found the heads were hot disposed to greatly
concern themselves about trying to solve a seemingly im-
possible problem. So Trill was duly notified, confidence
was again restored in the firm, and the even tenor of
things went on as usual.

A year or more passed after this little episode, when the
startling announcement was made that a large number of
fraudulent Brazilian bonds had been purchased by an outside
broker in an extensive way of business in Liverpool. The
broker's name was Haslam, trading as Haslam & Co. He
had been established for many years, and was known to be
highly respectable ; and though an * outsider,* he did an ex-
tensive and most lucrative business. It appeared, according
to his statement, that one morning an elegantly-dressed lady,
apparently about thirty years of age, drove up to his ofHces
in a brougham, drawn by a pair of splendid horses. Her
card bore the name of * Mrs. Hester Rigby,' and the address,
* Old Hall, Aintree.* She refused to state the nature of her
business to anyone in the office, and insisted on seeing
the principal, Mr. Haslam, himself. When at last she was
ushered into his presence she appeared greatly distressed, and
she stated that she was the holder of several Brazilian four per
cent, bonds, the aggregate value of which amounted to over

134 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

fifteen thousand pounds, and she requested to know if Mr.
Haslam could at once realise on them for her, as circumstances
which she did not feel called upon to mention rendered it
imperatively necessary that she should be in possession of
several thousand pounds without delay. Mr. Haslam replied
that it was his business to buy and sell stocks and shares,
and all sorts of valuable securities in the shape of bonds, &c.,
and that he had no doubt he could sell the Brazilians for
her in the course of a week. But she insisted that she
must realise immediately, and requested that a clerk might
be sent to her carriage, which waited outside, to bring a bag
which he would find there on the seat. This was ac-
cordingly done, and from the bag she produced the bonds.
After some little hesitation, Mr. Haslam undertook to
purchase them at their market value, subject to a slightly
extra commission being paid, and to hand her a cheque for
them the following day if she would call about twelve
o'clock. She seemed reluctant to fall in with that arrange-
ment, but at last consented, so the bonds were left with
the broker, a detailed receipt was handed to her, together
with a preliminary agreement to purchase, and she drove
away.

The following day, almost on the stroke of twelve, she
reappeared. In the meantime the bonds had been examined,
and nothing was noted calculated to arouse suspicion, so a
cheque was made out for her, together with the usual form
of transfer, which was duly signed and witnessed. The
transaction was carried through by the manager, as Mr.
Haslam was out of town. The fair customer particularly
requested that the cheque should not be crossed, and this
request was complied with. The matter being thus
completed, the lady, who was described as singularly fasci-
nating, and of unusual sharpness and shrewdness, with a
most business-like manner, shook hands with the manager
and took her departure. As was subsequently ascertained,
she went direct to the bank on which the cheque had been
drawn, and obtained the money, in notes and gold. There
is no doubt that during the ensuing few days most of the

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 135

notes, if not all of them, were converted into gold, and then
the ^cinating lady mysteriously disappeared. It seems
almost incredible — but many seemingly incredible things do
happen every day in a business way — that Mr. Haslam and
his manager should have been deceived by these bonds, for a
week after their purchase, on their being placed in the hands
of a member of the Stock Exchange for realisation, they
were pronounced to be forgeries and returned post haste to
Haslam's care. That gentleman's consternation was great,
and without a moment's loss of time he communicated with
the police, and two men were sent with all speed to Old
Hall, Aintree. It was an ancient house, standing in extensive
grounds, but was then silent and deserted. It is needless to
say no Mrs. Hester Rigby was found there. But it was
ascertained that a lady giving that name had entered into an
agreement to rent the house for twelve months with option
of renewal. The rent was to be two hundred pounds, and
when the owner asked for references the lady at once
offered to pay the year's rent in advance. As the house
had been very long empty, the landlord felt that he was in
luck's way. Some few articles of furniture were sent in
and the lady took up her abode there, but it was only too
obvious that she intended it to be a very temporary abiding
place indeed. The swell carriage and spanking pair of
horses were hired from the largest livery stables in Liverpool,
and having thus made her arrangements the fair lady pro-
ceeded to hoodwink the too confiding broker, and having
possessed herself of the fruits of her cleverness she went
forth and left no trace behind. The police, after the
manner of their kind, tried their best to get on the scent,
but utterly failed, and then Vincent Trill was asked to take
up the running. Almost from the first moment it struck
him as probable, even strongly probable, that there was some
mysterious connection between the missing bond in Harcourt
& Jarvins' offices twelve months ago and the sale of these
forged bonds to Mr. Haslam in Liverpool. Of course, it
was most difficult at that stage to give shape and form to the
connection^ but the present event somehow seen^ed to thrQ\Y

136 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

a light on the past events, and as Trill ruminated he
couldn't help thinking that the bond which was found on
the shelf in Harcourt & Jarvins* office did not get there by
accident, but was placed there by design. The idea led him
to make inquiries as to the number and some other details of
that particular bond, and then to his astonishment, and yet
not altogether to his astonishment, he found that the
Liverpool bogus bonds bore consecutive numbers beginning
with the number following the one in possession of Harcourt
& Jarvins. This was a discovery which he knew how to
value, and it afforded him the clue that he wanted, or, at
any rate, a clue, though perhaps a slender one. He did not
waste much time in Liverpool. He knew that to look for
signs there would be as fruitless as to search for footsteps in
desert sand. The pretty bird who had charmed Mr.
Haslam so effectually had flown completely away. She might
have been a principal or she might have been a mere tool,
but whichever she was it was obvious she could not have
prepared the fiaudulent bonds herself, and the fact of her
taking a house and paying a year's rent in advance, and hiring
a swell brougham and pair, pointed to a well-thought-out
scheme and conspiracy. The request for the open cheque,
too, and the conversion of the bank notes into gold, were
also confirmation strong of a conspiracy, and though * Mrs.
Hester Rigby ' was nothing more than a tool in the hands
of skilful rascals, there could be no doubt she was a woman
of no ordinary calibre, but a very clever one, wonderfully
adroit, self-possessed, and tactful.

The furniture that had been sent into the Old Hall to
Mrs. Hester Rigby's orders was still there. There was not
much of it. It had been purchased at a Liverpool furniture
dealer's and paid for. Beyond this furniture there wasn't a
scrap of anything else except a heap of refuse and rubbish in
the dust bin. This dust bin had an attraction for Trill,
under the circumstances, and he subjected it to a very
critical examination. There were some broken bottles,
some rags of various kinds, old boots and shoes, decaying
vegetable and animal xnatter intermixed with ashes, and

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 137

scraps of torn letters. With commendable patience and
infinite perseverance Trill rooted out every scrap of paper
bearing writing he could get hold of, and then he set to
work to put them in such order that the writing could be
read. It was very much like trying to fit together the
pieces of a complicated Chinese puzzle, and it was only with
a vague hope that something might result from his labours
that Trill worked. Long experience had taught him how
clues were to be sought for in the most unlikely places ;
and he had learnt how valuable even minute fragments of
writing might sometimes prove. But for this he would not
have concerned himself with picking morsels of paper from
the unsavoury dust heap.

After long trying he succeeded in getting together a
number of scraps containing writing, and evidently pieces of
a letter, and after careful arrangement the following could
be read :

greatest care caution safety depends

flight. Remember avoid suspicion. You

clever every possible in you risk is

tremendous succeed good thing I

yours, beloved, ever and ever,

Jack.

These words were suggestive in themselves, but Trill
set to work to find appropriate sentences to fill into the
blanks, and at last it seemed to him that this came nearest
to what was in the writer's mind at the time he penned the
letter :

* You must exercise the greatest care, for on your caution
our safety depends. As soon as the work [task, job] is
accomplished [carried out, completed] take your flight.

* Remember at all costs to avoid arousing suspicion. You
are so very clever that I have every possible confidence in
you ; at the same time don't forget the risk is tremendous,
but if you [we] succeed it will be [we shall have done] a
good thing. I am yours, my well beloved, for ever and
ever/

138 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

This gave the disjointed words form and meaning, and
though probably it differed very materially from the original
it conveyed the sense. There was nothing to indicate to
whom the letter was addressed, but it was obvious that the
recipient was a woman, and the writer her lover, or just
possibly her husband, but more likely her lover, as husbands
do not usually end their letters as that one ended.

Trill attached great importance to these scraps of paper,
and he had the writing carefully photographed, and then
commenced what on the face of it seemed the hopeless task
of trying to trace the writer. He weighed over all the pros
and cons of his theory as to there being a connection between
the incident of the missing bond in Harcourt & Jarvins'
office, London, and the sale of the forged bonds in Liverpool,
and he could come to no other conclusion than that his
theory had in it all the elements of probability, even strong
probability ; and given that that was correct it was equally
probable that somebody in Harcourt Sc Jarvins' office could
throw a good deal of light on the matter if he was so dis-
posed. The sequential step which Trill felt impelled to
take in working out his theory was to see if the handwriting
of the letter he had rescued from the dust bin was identical
with the handwriting of anyone in Harcourt & Jarvins'
office. That of course required a good deal of tact and diplo-
macy, but he was equal to the situation. His suspicions were
carefully concealed from everyone, and neither Harcourt
nor his partner had an inkling of what was in the detective's
mind. Trill knew how exceedingly valuable silence was in
such cases, for the slightest publicity meant that the offender
was put on his guard.

Vincent Trill spent a fortnight on this part of his investi-
gation, and then one night he quietly slipped out of town
and travelled by the South-Eastern boat train for Paris,
where he spent a day, and then left for the Riviera and
Monte Carlo. Between London and Paris a most casual
acquaintance would have had no difficulty whatever in
recognising him, for as Vincent Trill he was a very striking
and conspicuous-looking man ; but his own another would

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 139

have failed to recognise her son in the heavy-moustached, be-
spectacled, towzle-headed, red-feced-looking German pro-
fessor who took his seat in a first-class compartment of the
Paris-Lyons train bound for Marseilles.

Three days later this heavy German professor sat on a
seat on one of the terraces in the paradisaical gardens of
Monte Carlo, overlooking the Mediterranean. The scene
was a dream of beauty. The time was the beginning of
February, and the blue sea was like a tranquil lake dotted
here and there with the white wings of some pleasure yacht.
The air was languid with the perfume of a thousand different
flowers, and overhead the regal sun shone in the turquoise
sky, which was cloudless save for a few fleecy films. The
palm trees were slightly stirred by a languorous breeze, and
somewhere in the gardens the splendid band of the Casino
was playing selections from * Alfda.' The whole mise'en-scine
was beauteous in the extreme and suggestive of peace,
purity^ goodness, and innocence. But above in the upper
gardens was the Casino, the festering canker in the Paradise ;
while beneath the smiling faces of the men and women who
promenaded up and down beat many an aching heart ; and
the smiles in a number of cases served but to hide hatred,
bitterness, greed, and all uncharitableness.

The professor lolled in his seat in a drowsy attitude, and
a long cigar he held between his lips had apparently gone
out. A passer-by might have thought he was asleep, but he
was far from sleeping : he was wakeful and watchful, and
through his large spectacles, which did not magnify, his
dreamy eyes followed the movements of a lady and gentle-
man who promenaded up and down on the terrace before
him. The lady was a handsome, elegantly-dressed woman
about thirty, and her companion was much about her own
age. He was clean shaved, was fashionably dressed, wore
patent leather boots, and in his button-hole had a bunch of
gardenias and stephanotis with maidenhair fern. His gloves
were without a wrinkle and light canary in colour. He
toyed daintily with a cigar, and under his arm carried a gold-
headed cane. His companion screened her dainty complexion

140 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

from the sun with a white silk parasol covered with rich
lace and lined with the most delicate shade of pink. Her
lace-covered silken skirts made a pleasant frou-frou as she
strolled backwards and forwards on the well-kept path, and
her little feet in the most dainty of slippers danced in and
out beneath her frills. Occasionally she looked up into her
companion's face with an expression of trust and love, and
her pretty lips would part in a self-satisfied smile, revealing
fiiultless teeth. To a superficial observer this young couple
would have seemed the embodiment of happy, careless,
joyous life ; and they would have been set down as a newly
married pair on their honeymoon, wanting nothing that the
world could give them that was calculated to make their
lives pangless and bright. But a closer observer would have
noted that the man's face was not free from care, and there
was a restless, hunted appearance about the eyes which
indicated too surely mental worry and strain.

In this man and woman the professor was deeply
interested, but for any notice they took of him he might
have been part and parcel of the seat on which he sat.

For a week longer the young couple remained in Monte
Carlo. They stayed at the very best hotel. They ftired
sumptuously. They spent their evenings in the Casino,
and the man staked heavily in the trente-et^uarante room,
sometimes winning and sometimes losing. At last they
took their departure from Monte Carlo, and having spent a
day in Nice, a day in Cannes, and another in Marseilles, they
travelled on to Paris, where the lady rented a small but
elegant flat in one of the side streets running out of the
Champs Elys6es. The professor had followed them so far,
but there he left them and returned to London.

Vincent Trill's visit to the Continent had placed him in
possession of some important facts bearing on the great bond
frauds, and the day following his return to London he sought
an interview with Mr. Harcourt, of the firm of Harcourt &
Jarvins. A statement which he was compelled to make to
that gentleman caused the latter to turn deathly pale and
gasp for breath, as if he were suffocating. When the first

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 141

shock had passed he ran his long, thin fingers through his
scant grey hair and ejaculated :

* Impossible ! *

^ I wish, Mr. Harcourt, I could think it was impossible/
said Trill sympathetically ; * but it*s too true, I am sorry to say.*

Mr. Harcourt covered his face with his hands for some
moments. He was suffering the keenest anguish, and his
long and honourable life seemed to be closing in deep, dark
shadows. Presently he spoke again. His voice was weak
and flickering.

* Mr. Trill,' he said, * you must do your duty, and, with
the help of God, I shall do mine. The shock of this
discovery has given me my death-blow — I feel and know
that ; but in my dying moments I shall be able to lay my
hand on my heart and say solemnly that I have wronged
no man.'

A few days after this interview the gentleman who had
been with the handsome lady at Monte Carlo was in London,
and within a few hours he was arrested under a warrant
which stated that he was suspected of being a party to an
extensive fraud and forgery in connection with some spurious
Brazilian bonds. Almost at the same moment the lady,
whom he had left in Paris at her flat, was arrested there in
the name of Madame Danvers, alias Hester Rigby, on the
same charge and at the request of the authorities of Scotland
Yard. The man's name was given as John Jarrold Jarvins,
and he was described as a solicitor, of Chancery Lane and
Hyde Park Gardens. A few hours later a second man was
^ept into the net. He was a Pole named Scoboski, a
native of Warsaw, naturalised in England, by trade an
engraver ; and before that week had ended a third man
came within grip of the law. His name was Ronald Griflin.
He was described as a stockbroker, and was charged as
being an accessory to the fraud. John Jarrold Jarvins was
Mr. Harcourt's partner. He had been taken in as partner
on the death of his father, who had been dead two years.

Young Jarvins had led a somewhat wild youth, and at
college had made himself conspicuous by his extravagances

142 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and excesses. During the time that he was reading for the
law, however, he seemed to improve, although it was known
that he had a passion for horse-racing. Nevertheless, great
hopes were formed of him, both by his father and his father's
partner, but unhappily these hopes were not destined to be
fulfilled. He made the acquaintance of a lady, the wife of a
military officer, whose husband was abroad. She was a
woman of most luxurious tastes and costly habits, and on
her account her lover plunged deeper and deeper into debt.
Although Nature had endowed her with a handsome face
and perfect figure, she was as wicked and unprincipled as she
was handsome and clever. What her origin was nobody
seemed to know, but for many years she had followed the
profession of an actress, and in that capacity she first met
her husband. Although her career had been shady he
married her, notwithstanding the protests of his friends. She
had passed under various names, but was associated with
Jarvins as Madame Danvers and Hester Rigby. Finding
himself ultimately in very serious financial difficulties, young
Jarvins conceived the desperate and terrible idea of forging
certain bonds ; and he entered into a conspiracy with Ronald
Griffin, who had been in business as a stockbroker, but
had sufiered a term of imprisonment for the misappropriation
of funds entrusted to his care ; and with Scoboski, who was a
very clever engraver and lithographer ; and a third man
named Albert Poitrine, a Frenchman, who had since died.

The plan of these men was to imitate and forge foreign
bonds, and in this work Scoboski's artistic talents were likely
to prove invaluable. They commenced operations with
Brazilian bonds, and the one that was missed from the safe
in Harcourt & Jarvins' office had no doubt been abstracted
by young Jarvins in order that it might be copied ; but its
absence, unfortunately for him, was discovered before he
could replace it. A large number of bonds had been
prepared ; and at the suggestion of Ronald Griffin the lady
who called herself Mrs. Hester Rigby went down to
Liverpool, where by her cleverness she was enabled to
impose so successfully on Mr. Haslam. It was while she

AN ASTOUNDING CASE OF KNAVERY 143

was in Liverpool that Jarvins wrote the letter to her, pieces
of which Trfll recovered from the ash-pit at the Old Hall,
Aintree. His shrewdness in suspecting that the incident of
the missing bond in Harcourt & Jarvins' office had some
relation to the sale of the forged bonds in Liverpool led to
his discovering that the writing on the recovered scraps of
paper was identical with Mr Jarvins'. Further inquiry led
to his learning that Mr. Jarvins was taking a holiday and
spending it at Monte Carlo. Of course. Trill had a full
and detailed description of * Mrs. Hester Rigby,' and when
he arrived at Monte Carlo he had no difficulty in recognising
her in the person of Jarvins' companion.

In due course the plotters were placed before a jury of
their countrymen. Hester Rigby, alias Danvers, and
various other aliases, was placed in the dock with her
companions in guilt, her extradition from France having
been demanded and granted. From the position of two of
the parties at least, the trial, which spread over four days,
caused a great sensation, and the struggle for places in the
court was almost unprecedented. A verdict of * Guilty ' was
returned against all the accused, although they were not all
considered to be guilty in the same degree. Jarvins and
Griffin were, as the ringleaders, sentenced to a long term
of imprisonment. Scoboski, as a mere tool, got off with
two years ; and the handsome Hester, who was regarded as
being entirely under the influence of her lover, escaped with
the light penalty of twelve months. It was said that her good
looks and fascinating manner prevailed over judge and jury
alike.

Poor Mr. Harcourt did not long survive the disgrace
which had been brought upon his firm by the rascality of
his unworthy partner, and within a few weeks from the
guilty persons being sentenced he sank into his grave.

L

144 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

THE MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW

The annals of evil deeds furnish us with many startling
examples of the extremes to which human wickedness is
capable of going, and one is often tempted to smile grimly
at the cant which tells us that we are better, purer-minded,
and freer from evil than were our fore&thers of a century
ago. Students of humanity, however, know full well that
man is as degenerate as ever he was, and they entertain no
doubt that he is likely to remain what he is until the end of
time. It is not a pleasant reflection for those zealots who
preach the doctrine of increasing peace and goodwill ; but
theory and practice almost invariably clash, and hard, stern
facts permit of no quibbling. As a complicated and
mysterious crime, the case of the Hon. Peter Hipshaw is
hard to beat, and it might almost be taken as a text whereon
to found a sermon on man's never-ending iniquity.

Mr. Peter Hipshaw was the youngest son of an aristo-
cratic father, who, as a very keen politician, greatly distin-
guished himself during Lord Palmerston's administration.
The family, however, though aristocratic, were poor, and in
a relative sense certain ancestors had made ducks and drakes
of the estates, and each successor found himself more heavily
encumbered than his predecessor. Nevertheless Peter
received an excellent education, and went from one of the
great public schools to Cambridge, where, without displaying
any great brilliancy, he succeeded in taking his degree with
honour, and was forthwith entered for the diplomatic service.

MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW 145

and in due course — thanks to his father's great influence
— was appointed an attache to our Ambassador in Paris. But
previous to this it had been deemed advisable by those
interested in him that he should travel^ and thus gain a
practical knowledge of the world. He thus spent two years
in drifting about, and during that time he went through
Canada, wandered extensively in Persia, India, and China,
took a glance at Japan, Java, and the Straits Settlements,
and returned home vid San Francisco and New York.

Mr. Hipshaw was a very well-favoured young man. He
had a grace of person and a charm of manners that caused
his company to be much sought after, and so polished,
courteous, and chivalrous was he that he became in time to
be familiarly referred to as * Gentleman Hipshaw.'

So much as an introduction to what follows. Years
passed and the Hon. Peter Hipshaw plodded on in a humdrum
way, and quite failed to justify the predictions that were
made at the commencement of his career, to the effect that
he would greatly distinguish himself in the service. But
ten years found him precisely what he was at the start. He
had not advanced a peg, and though a general favourite in
the service, he was regarded as a * one-grooved man,' with-
out ambition and without desire. It seemed, so far as he
was concerned, once an attachi^ always an attach/. He
had been shifted about a good deal. A couple of years in
Paris ; then a year or two in Persia ; next in Russia, where
he fell ill, and was invalidjcd for a time. After that in
Washington, and then followed another journey of pleasure
to the East, during which he visited some of the South Sea
Islands ; and, finally, he settled down once more in his
^ beloved Paris.' He was wont to say that of all places in
the world he had visited, he loved Paris best.

He had, so far as was known, during this period of his
career shown himself proof against the wiles and blandish-
ments of the opposite sex. He chose to remain single.
His reasons were his own. It was noted that he did not
make many confidants, and even to his most intimate friends
he was somewhat of a sealed book.

146 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

All the foregoing particulars, which in rough outline
represent the story of his life, were brought to light and
made more or less public by the subsequent events which
have now to be narrated.

After a rather prolonged absence from England he had
revisited London to spend Christmas there, and to settle
some business with his lawyers in connection with a small
property to which he had succeeded through the death of a
relative. He prolonged his stay in the British Metropolis
until well on in January, when he left on his return journey
to Paris. He crossed with some acquaintances who happened
to be going over to France at the same time. The weather
was unusually fine and mild for the time of year, and during
the run across Channel the party sat on deck and smoked.

On reaching Paris the friends separated, promising to
dine together at the Maison d'Or the following evening.
Hipshaw drove to his apartments in the Rue Monceau,
and the concierge greeted him as he gave him entrance.
Hipshaw complained of being very tired, and said he was
not to be disturbed until eleven o'clock, as he did not intend to
go to the Embassy until one. His apartments were in charge
of and looked after by an elderly woman known as Madame
Pantin, and he was in the habit of having his morning meals
sent in from a neighbouring restaurant. Madame Pantin
slept in the basement, and on being informed by the concierge
on the following morning what Hipshaw's wishes were with
regard to not being disturbed until eleven o'clock she did not
go to his chambers until that hour, and she was accompanied
by a waiter from the restaurant with the breakftist.

Madame was surprised to find that the door giving
entrance to the passage of his house was not closed and
yielded immediately to her touch when she was about to
msert her latchkey. She mentally rated * Monsieur' for
being so careless as to leave his door ajar, for, of course, lots
of strangers, tradesmen and others, came up and down the
stairs when the business of the day began. Hipshaw's rooms
were on the third stage or storey, and there were four more
storeys above him. A hurried glance round the salon and

MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW 147

breakfast-room reassured the housekeeper, for there were no
apparent signs of anyone having taken advantage of the un-
latched door to intrude. Having seen the breakfast dulv
arranged on the table, she proceeded to knock at Hipshaw s
bedroom door. There was no response, so she knocked
again, and again, and again, with the same result. Then,
thinking that her employer must be sleeping unusually well,
she turned the handle — it yielded, and she pushed the door
and peeped in. The heavy curtains of the window were
closely drawn, shrouding the room in complete darkness,
but in a few moments, when her eyes had grown accustomed
to the gloom, she thought she perceived something white on
the floor. She hurried to the window, and drew the
curtains, letting in a flood of light. Then she gave vent to
a piercing scream and rushed precipitately from the apart-
ment, and fled to the concierge with the tidings that
Monsieur Hipshaw was lying on the floor of his bedroom,
dead, and that his shirt was crimson with blood.

It so chanced that a policeman was standing on the pave-
ment opposite the doorway, and he was at once communi-
cated with, and he and the concierge and Madame Pantin
returned to find the report only too true. Hipshaw was
lying partly on his left side, his legs drawn up ; he was face
downwards, his left arm under his forehead, his right arm
extended at length, the hand being firmly clenched. He
was partly undressed, having only his trousers and shirt on,
and the shirt was soaked with blood. It was a terrible sight,
and the afirighted trio withdrew without touching the body ;
and while the policeman waited on the landing, a message
was despatched immediately to the Central Police Station,
to a doctor who resided opposite, and to the British
Embassy.

The doctor, who knew Hipshaw, was the first to arrive,
and, without moving the body, he applied his fingers to the
wrist and immediately pronounced life to be extinct, and
the rigidity and coldness proved that the man had been dead
for some hours.

Very soon there came a troop of officials, according to

148 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

French custom, for French law is painfully formal and
irritatingly circumlocutory. A gentleman from the Embassy
also joined the group, and the police doctor, who had come
in with the officials, proceeded to make an examination of the
prostrate man. Dead he was, beyond all doubt, and he was
dead because he had been murdered. That fact was just as
certain as his death, for a gaping wound in the back,
between the shoulder blades, spoke of a dagger thrust.
Probably the heart had been injured. At any rate, the lung
must have been pierced, and the victim had rapidly lost
consciousness and bled to death.

It needed no expert to determine that the wound was a
knife wound, that it was a physical impossibility for any man
to inflict such a wound upon himself. The matter-of-fact
officials carefully took down all these details and particulars ;
then, with mathematical minuteness, proceeded to examine
the room, and to search for the weapon with which the deed
had been done. But all the care and minuteness and all
the searching failed to bring that to light. The next step
was to search the rest of the house, and the final one in the
preliminary investigation was to seal up the dead man's
effects, put the official seal on the door, and retire.

It is perhaps needless to say that in a few hours Paris rang
with the crime, and the ring was echoed in London a little
later. The Hon. Peter Hipshaw was not an eminent man,
and to the general public was not known at all ; but all the
same he was a public servant ; he was an attach^ to the Paris
Embassy, and that fact enhanced the interest taken in his
death. Besides that, it was murder — there wasn't a doubt
on that point — ^and murder of a very mysterious kind, for as
the investigation proceeded it was made clear as the light of
noon that Hipshaw had been foully done to death by an
assassin's hand, and no trace of the knife or the assassin was
forthcoming.

The post-mortem examination proved that the victim
had been stabbed by a powerful thrust with a long and
probably narrow-bladed knife — in all probability a stiletto.
It had cruelly ripped into the lung, producing such mortal

Murder of hon. peter hipsmaw 149

mischief during its lightning-like passage that death was a
mere question of minutes, if not moments.

No time was lost in sending over Vincent Trill, who was
charged with the task of making an independent investigation
of this strange case. Trill was well known to the Paris police ;
he spoke French with perfect fluency, and was well acquainted
with Paris life. His French confreres therefore welcomed
him, and every facility was placed in his way to enable him,
if possible, to unravel the mystery — for mystery it certainly
was. Plunder was evidently not the object of the crime,
and at that stage it was most difficult to define the object.
Within a very short time of leaving his friend with whom
he had journeyed from England, and within half an hour of
entering his premises, Peter Hipshaw had been done to
death, and the assassin had probably been lying in wait for
him. Mr. Hipshaw had a great objection to be bothered
with luggage, and when he travelled between France and
England he never took anything beyond a handbag and a
rug, as he always kept a supply of clothes in London.
When he had arrived at his chambers in Paris, the door-
keeper had offered to carry the bag upstairs for him, but as
the hour was so late Peter declined the offer. The bag
was found open in his room ; he had taken out his razors
and shaving tackle and nightshirt, and had obviously com-
menced to undress, having divested himself of his coat, vest,
and collar and necktie when the fatal blow was struck. From
that it was reasonable to suppose the assassin had taken him
entirely unawares. The deadly work must have been done
like a flash, for there was no sign of a struggle having taken
place. Numerous odds and ends of value were in the room,
which the murderer might have carried off had robbery been
his motive, and in the open handbag was a sum of money
in notes and gold amounting to over 20/. It appeared that
Madame. Pantin slept at the very top of the house, but
knowing that her employer was returning home, she had
gone to his rooms the last thing — that was, a little before
midnight. She had lit the gas-stove in the bedroom, in
order to warm tJie apartment ; had drawn the curtains and

150 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

turned down the bed, and put his slippers ready. She had
spent nearly the whole day in his place, tidying and cleaning
up, and putting thick winter curtains at all the windows.
At six o'clock she went out and spent the evening with a
married daughter, returning about half-past eleven. Then
it was she went to Hipshaw's room to light the gas-stove and
prepare the bed. There wasn't the feintest sign then of
any stranger having been in.

Trill subjected the premises to a very minute scrutiny.
He was not so much concerned as to how the assassin got in, as
to how he got out. As stated, the housekeeper found the door
ajar when she went down in the morning, and an examina-
tion revealed the stains of bloody fingers on the finger-plate.
So far it was plain sailing. The murderer, having completed
the work he came to do, left the house by the doorway and
found himself on the landing. From thence where did he
go to ? How did he escape ? He did not go downstairs
and pass the conciergis dormitory. So much was placed
beyond question.

At the end of Hipshaw's landing was a window opening
like a door, as most French windows do. Trill searched
for traces of that window having been recently opened and
found them. The same blood-stained fingers which had
left their impress on the door-plate had slightly marked the
muslin curtains. The window was at the back of the
house. It was forty-eight feet from the ground. Between
the window and the ground there was no break of any
kind. At the bottom was a paved courtyard, surrounded
by a range of stables belonging to a cab proprietor. If the
assassin had gone out that way he must have flown down or
jumped down. In the latter case he would have been
pulverised and smashed. But there was one other way he
might have got down. And Trill, having seen the feasibility
of this, promptly proceeded to look for signs, and his search
was rewarded. Running straight down the wall from top
to bottom of the building was a stout soil pipe. That pipe
passed within a foot of the window. A daring and active
man, endowed with unusuaLstrength, could reach the ground

MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW 151

by means of that pipe. And when a ladder had been
procured and the pipe carefully examined, there were
unmistakable traces of the descent. There were marks of
boot-nails on the wall and marks of fingers on the pipe
itself.

This discovery made other things pretty clear. One
was, the murder was deliberately planned, and the assassin
had carefully studied beforehand his means of exit. An-
other deduction that left no room for doubt was that the
criminal was a man who was endowed with iron nerves, a
cool head, and the muscles of a Samson. Another discovery
was also made which placed in Trill's hands a powerful clue.
In the stableyard near where the soil pipe passed below the
ground there was found the half of the blade of a dagger.
It bore red stains, which were presumably blood, and the
medical opinion was that the wound in Hipshaw's body had
been inflicted by such a weapon. The finding of this piece
of the weapon suggested that the murderer had, previous to
descending the pipe, stuck the dagger in his belt. In the
course of his descent it caught in some projection, and was
broken off. A close examination of the piece of blade
brought to light the fact that a name had been somewhat
crudely scratched on it, but the letters were nearly ef&ced.
A strong magnifying glass, however, enabled Trill to decipher
these letters — P.e.p.e. H.i.l.Lo. They formed the very
curious name, Pepe Hillo, which proved to be Spanish.
And the French police found that they had in their black
list one Pepe Hillo, described as of Spanish nationality ; a
ruffian of the worst class, powerful, brutal, and ferocious.
He had served ten years of 'travaux forces' for half-
miurdering a woman with whom he lived. It now became
necessary to search for Pepe Hillo. And the most likely
place to find him was in that terrible haunt of vice,
Montmartre, one of the fouUest spots in all Europe, and the
home of some of its most awful human devils — men and
women — the world contains.

On the northern slopes of Montmartre are gloomy
stretches of waste ground, traversed by unfrequented roads,

152 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and dotted here and there with reeking, fetid dens which
the ghouls inhabit. In this dreary and hcMTible quarter of
' stately and beautiful Paris ' is a vile hell, known as the
^ Moulin de la Galette/ so called, perhaps, because there are
three or four windmills in the neighbourhood, and the
French for mill is ^ moulin/

The Moulin de la Galette is a public dancing-place of
the very lowest kind, and the awful specimens of humanity
who frequent it will scarcely bear describing ; while the
scenes that are enacted have scarcely any parallel elsewhere.
On a Sunday night it is in full swing. Then all the villainy
is congregated from the noisome alleys and courts of
Montmartre, from the reeking dens of La Villette, and the
fortifications and leprous holes of Saint Ouen. To study
the awful faces of all these creatures is to beget in one a
doubt whether God did create all mankind or not.

In this vile place, one Sunday night about a fortnight
after the assassination of the Hon. Peter Hipshaw, two men,
apparently hulking ruffians, sauntered about among the
throng that filled the dancing-room to su£Rx:ation. They
wore blue blouses, and loosely knotted red handkerchief
round their necks. Their trousers were of the ample, baggy
kind, tight at the ankles, so beloved of the Paris rough, and
their heads were covered with the peak cap affected also by
the Paris loafer. The mouth of each was hidden by a heavy
moustache, and each face had the appearance of being drink-
sodden and cruel. As they were strangers, the company
showed no inclination to fraternise with them, for the
denizens of that reeking region were suspicious of strangers,
for they all of them had good cause, more or less, to be
afraid almost of their own shadows. The strangers, however,
did not seem to concern themselves about that. They
haunted the dram-counter, where body and soul destroying
poisons were sold under the name of liqueurs. Presently one
of them began to make advances to a raddled cacaneuie
who had been howling out a ribald song. She was young
in years but old in vice, and at one time she might have
been considered passably good-looking. The stranger and she

MURDER OF HON* PETER HIPSHAW 153

seemed to get on well together. He treated her to the poison
called liqueur, and she was gratified. The stranger's com-
panion apparently had sunk into a drunken and besotted
sleep. He was seated on a form, his back against a wall,
his chin fallen on his breast, his arms folded. His face was
almost entirely hidden by the peak of his cap.

It was nearing midnight. The so-called ball was in full
swing. The half-drunken men and women roared and
reeled, yelled and kicked, swung and bobbed, backed and
advanced, seizing each other now and again, and whirling
round and round in a wild, mad, demoniacal frenzy.
Presently the stranger and the woman, who had been haunting
the bar for at least an hour, went out into the starless night,
and after the mephitic atmosphere of the dancing-saloon, the
outer air was pure and invigorating. At that moment the
drunken sleeper — stranger number two — who had occupied
the form reeled out after his companion and the woman,
who led the way to a hovel that stood in a ^ garden plot.'
The window of this hovel was screened by a woollen curtain
that had not been drawn quite close, and it showed that a
light burned in the room. The stranger rapped on the
door in a peculiar way. It evidently conveyed a meaning
and a signal. In a few moments the door opened to the
limits of a chain, and in the aperture the gross and greasy
face of a fat woman appeared. She demanded to know who
the intruder was and what he wanted. He said he was
the doctor's assistant, and had been sent by the doctor, who
couldn't come, as he had to go to another man who had
been knifed by a comrade during a quarrel. One or two
other questions were asked by the woman and answered
satis&ctorily. At last she drew the chain, and swung the
door open for the ^ doctor's assistant ' to enter. He did so,
but stood for a moment or two on the threshold. A miser-
able tallow candle stuck in a bottle that stood on the floor of
the passage was the only light. The * doctor's assistant' by
a clumsy step knocked the bottle over, and the place was
plunged in darkness. The man swore at his clumsiness, so
did the woman, and at that instant a second man slipped in,

154 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

silent as a shadow, and crouched behind the door, which the
doctor closed and protected by putting the chain on. Then,
led by the woman, he entered a room that was illuminated
by a candle on a table.

It was a low-ceilinged room, the ceiling as black as coal.
The walls were almost entirely destitute of plaster, and the
bare bricks showed between, dripping and slimy. The black,
greasy boards of the floor were destitute of carpet, and the
whole furniture of the place would not have fetched five francs
at an auction sale. At one side was a bare hearthstone, on
which glowed a pan of coals, and a mangy cat warmed itself
on the hearth.

These were mere details, however, which did not interest
the doctor's assistant, who glanced at a bed in a corner. It
was a dirty, reeking couch, with inconceivably filthy rags
about it. Everything in the place was filthy, sickening.
The atmosphere was mephitic, but it was typical of all the
dens in that awful region of human leeches and ghouls. On
the bed lay a fierce, repulsive-looking man, whose head
was bound up with blood-stained rags. His whole appear-
ance was ghastly ; but he was of herculean build, and looked
a determined rufiian to whom nothing would be sacred.
With the suspicion of a hunted creature, he half started up,
and in a thick, raspy, raucous voice demanded to know who the
stranger was, and what in the name of the fiend he wanted.

The woman answered :

^ Old Crazion couldn't come to dress your head to-night.
He is with a pal who's been slit up in a row, so he's sent
this chap instead.'

* Are you a rattlebones r ' (slang for doctor) asked the
sick man savagely, and still looking suspicious.

*No.'

* Who the blistering brimstone are you, then ? '

* Vandeleur, the detective.'

The sick man uttered a yell of mortal terror, for the
name of Vandeleur, the famous French detective, was known
in every slum in Paris ; while all the human vermin of the
gutters lived in dread of Vandeleur, who seemed to be

MURDER OF HON. PETER HIPSHAW 155

ubiquitous, to possess nine lives, and to be capable of assum-
ing such disguise that his most intimate friend could never
have recognised him.

Simultaneous with the cry of the ruffian, his hand dived
beneath the bedclothes and seized a revolver, but before he
could use it Vandeleur had thrown himself on him, and the
fat woman, who attempted to seize Vandeleur, suddenly
found herself pinned by powerful arms. They were the
arms of Vandeleur's companion, who was Vincent Trill, and
as if they had been conjured by magic the house was filled
and surrounded by policemen with drawn swords. Trill,
who had slipped in and crouched behind the door when
Vandeleur had kicked over the candle, gave them admission.
The sick man on the bed was Pepe Hillo, and he had been
betrayed into the hands of his enemies by the raddled
cacaneusey who had fallen into the trap so cleverly laid for
her by Vandeleur ; for she, never suspecting who he was, but
believing him when he said he was a pal, and had important
news to give Pepe if he could find him, had given Pepe away.

Notwithstanding the strong force of the law's repre-
sentatives, Pepe Hillo was not conveyed from that awfiil
Alsatia without a struggle, for the news ran like wildfire,
and a rescue was attempted. But the armed and disciplined
band prevailed over the mob, and the ruffian was lodged at
last in the Mazas Prison. In due course he was brought to
trial, and link by link a chain of evidence was forged around
him. That he committed the crime there was no room for
doubt, and his injuries were received by a fell when descend-
ing by means of the pipe. That fall was due probably to the
dagger, which he had stuck in his waistband, catching in one
of the joints of the pipe. That dagger was fatal to him,
since it betrayed him into the hands of the law, and he was
condemned to death. A few weeks later his brutal life
came to an end by the guillotine.

The motive that led Pepe Hillo to assassinate Mr.
Hipshaw is a story in itself, and must be told as a sequel.
It is one of those strange romances of real life that give us
pause, and set us wondering many things.

156 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

XI

WHY THE HON. PETER HIPSHAW WAS

ASSASSINATED

Nearly every murder is the result of a motive on the part
of the murderer. The motive may spring into existence
suddenly, born of a passing impulse ; it may be the common
and vulgar one of an ignorant and debased mind, arising from
covetous greed ; or the murderer, in order to save his own
worthless life, takes the life of another. On the other hand,
motive may be of long and deliberate growth, the result of
real or fancied wrong ; it then takes the form of revenge-
one of the strongest of human passions. In countries where
laws are lax, as in some of the States of America, murder is
more frequently than not the outcome of revenge for injury
suffered. This may be termed a rough and ready means of
justice, though in many cases the punishment is out of all
proportion to the offence. It is a form of brutality, and
brutality is almost invariably associated with an ignorant
mind incapable of reasoning. The man who would commit
murder from motives of revenge would flog his horse to
death because the animal had offended him. It is very rarely,
indeed, that a clever and intellectual man is brutal. In all
ages and in all conditions revenge has been a very fruitful
source of crime. In less civilised times than those we now
live in, very little provocation was needed for one man to
kill another man. In those days life was held cheaply and
was taken readily. Death was the only form of punish-
ment which the wild justice of revenge recognised. Con-

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 157

stituted law has placed a much higher value on human life,
and redress for wrong must be sought for in a court of law.
The complainant may not always succeed in getting the
redress, but he has to rest satisfied with what the law awards
him. In rare instances the wronged one will make a law
unto himself and slay his wronger. But no matter how
grievously he has been offended, though he has been ruined
in body and purse, though his home has been destroyed, and
his wife and daughter betrayed, if he kills his wronger he
commits murder in the first degree. Civilisation recognises
nothing, absolutely nothing, that can justify murder.

When Vincent Trill began to inquire into the Hipshaw
case, he looked about, as he always did, for a motive for
the crime, because it is an axiom among those whose
business it is to bring crime home to the perpetrator, that if
you discover the motive you may be able to spot the crimi-
nal. The finding of the blade of the broken dagger on
which the name of Pepe Hillo was scratched afforded a clue
to the hand that had struck the fatal blow. And when it
was remembered that ^Pepe Hillo' was the name of a
notorious individual against whom the police had a black
record, the clue was materially strengthened, although it did
not suggest a motive. Pepe Hillo was classed amongst the
lawless wretches — male and female — who, taking their lives
and liberties in their hands, choose to eke out their miserable
existence by plundering. To such people, of course, life
has no sacredness. If one of these pariahs had found his own
life in peril he would not have hesitated to have sacrificed
the life of the highest personage in the land, if by so doing
he could save himself. With such a wretch self-preservation
is the very highest law of nature. This is ever the case
where true courage, chivalry, and ennobling qualities are
lacking.

When the first hurried examination of Hipshaw's cham-
bers took place as soon as the murder became known, it was
made clear that the assassin had not been actuated by a de-
sire to rob. Had it been otherwise there was a sum of
money lying ready to his hand which he could easily have

IS8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

appropriated and carried off without encumbering himself or
impeding his flight. It seemed^ therefore, as if the crime
was a political one. Some hot-headed fool, perhaps, had
conceived an impression that the world would be better if
Hipshaw were removed from it, although, politically speaking,
the Hon. Peter Hipshaw was an utterly irresponsible being
— ?L mere attache to the Embassy, who could no more have
influenced the Government of the country in which he had
taken up his residence than he could have flown. The
finding of the blade of the dagger in the stable yard threw a
totally different light on the matter, and yet it was hard to
understand how it came about that if Pepe Hillo was
responsible for the crime he had not thought it worth while
to carry off a single louis. Apart from the money and other
portable valuables, all the jewellery and trinkets and a
massive gold chain and valuable gold chronometer watch
were left behind. As a matter of feet, he might have filled
his trousers pockets alone with between two and three
hundred pounds' worth of things. However, it was not the
business of the police to think out a motive for the crime
first, and arrest afterwards. A strangely fortuitous circum-
stance had placed a clue in their hands, and they would have
been fools not to have used it because they could not define
a motive for the commission of the crime. Their business
was to seek for Pepe Hillo, and having found Pepe Hillo it
would remain for the law to prove him guilty or a victim of
someone's blunder. If he were proved guilty the motive
for the deed would no doubt be forthcoming.

Pepe Hillo's record and antecedents pointed pretty
accurately to where he was likely to be found. He was
known to be a ruffian and to consort with ruffians, and
Montmartre was the very hotbed of Paris ruffianism. Even
though a ^ wanted ' man had his den somewhere else, it was
ten to one but what some trace of him could be got in
Montmartre, and it was there that Vandeleur, a distin-
guished member of the Paris Secret Service, determined to
seek for him. Trill obtained permission of the Commissary
of Police to accompany his colleague, and the two, with the

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 159

cleverness of true artists, so altered their outward appearance
that even the born ruffian would have failed to penetrate the
disguise. But apart from this disguise they were both
enabled to assume the manner, the slouch, the shrug, the
slang, and general style of a * Montmartre rat,' so that they
felt themselves safe. To provide for contingencies every
possible precaution was taken, and it was arranged that a
number of well-armed, plain clothes police should be within
beck and call. The programme thus mapped out, Vandeleur
and Trill set forth on their dangerous mission. It was
arranged that Trill was to act the part of the watcher, ready
for any emergency, while Vandeleur was to seek for traces
of Pepe Hillo. Fortune favoured Vandeleur by throwing
the female singer in his way. Into her ear he poured
such a plausible story that he disarmed her suspicion, if she
had any, and succeeded in inducing her to betray the

* suspect ' into his hands. The story he told was that he
had just tramped from Marseilles, having been released from
a term of imprisonment there ; that during his imprison-
ment he made the acquaintance of another convict, con-
demned for life, who gave him a most important message
to deliver to Pepe Hillo. The woman on her part stated
that Pepe Hillo had recently been injured seriously, and was
lying attended by a quack doctor, who * practised * in
Montmartre. These little details were of the greatest
service to Vandeleur, and in addition he learnt that if he
wanted admission into Pepe Hillo*s house he must rap on
the door in a peculiar way, as a signal that a friend and not
a foe sought entrance.

The murder of Mr. Hipshaw had been the talk of Paris
for several dzysy and the papers made rare capital out of it.
The * Drame de la Rue Monceau,' it was called : and the

* Drame de la Rue Monceau ' was for the time on every-
one's tongue. Then it was swept out of memory by some
other event, but revived with increased interest when it
was announced that Pepe Hillo had been arrested and
charged with the assassination of the Hon. Peter Hipshaw,
of her Britannic Majesty's diplomatic service. For many

i6o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

weeks it was thought that Pepe Hillo would cheat the
law of its due, if he were guilty, for he hovered between life
and death in the prison infirmary, owing to his injuries.
But, thanks to the skill and science of the doctors, he was
patched up, and having already gone through the pre-
liminary stages of inquiry ana examination peculiar to
French criminal procedure, he was placed upon his trial,
and a mass of circumstantial evidence was brought to bear
against him. Montmartre had subscribed a hancbome purse
to pay for the defence of the prisoner, and two of the ablest
counsel in Paris were charged with his defence. When
they found that it was hopeless in face of the evidence to
aim at an acquittal on the grounds of innocence, they
adopted other tactics, and asked for acquittal, or mitigation
of punishment, on the plea of ^ the dastardly conduct of the
deceased gentleman,' and gradually the following remark-
able iacts were made public on the prisoner's behalf :

It appeared that the Hon. Peter Hipshaw had always
taken a great interest in the criminal laws of all civilised
countries, no less than in criminals themselves ; and he had
written a book in which he advocated lenient sentences,
urging that in his opinion severity of punishment did not
deter, but only brutalised. He was also very strongly
opposed to capital punishment.

This book attracted some interest, but carried no weight.
Its arguments were considered fallacious, its theories the
veriest assumption, and without the slightest practical value.
On these grounds it was generally condemned. It brought
its author, however, into contact with the lower orders, not
only of Paris, but of many other large cities, and he was
known to interest himself very largely in men and women
who had already suffered imprisonment, and in the criminal
classes generally. During one of his journeys round the
world he obtained the special permission of the Government
to visit the French penal setdement of New Caledonia.
Such fame as his book had given him had reached that
place, and he found himself very popular, and an object of
great interest to the criminals.

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED i6i

Among the convicts there who had b6en transported for
life was a well-educated fellow named Briant. By profession
this man was a lawyer, and had at one time enjoyed a very
large practice entirely amongst the criminal classes in Paris.
He was known as the ^ Criminal Lawyer/ and it was said
that he knew the secrets of all the most notorious ruffians of
France. Being an exceedingly extravagant and fast living
man he got into monetary difficulties, and in order to
extricate himself he, in conjunction with another black sheep,
of the legal profession, committed a most ingenious and
extensive forgery of bonds. The forgery was discovered.
He was arrested, tried, and condemned to transportation for
life to New Caledonia.

This man, knowing that he had no hope of ever getting
his sentence reduced, told Hipshaw that he had a wife and
daughter in Paris. His daughter he described as a very
beautiful girl, and declared that he was madly, passion-
ately devoted to her. Of his wife he spoke very lightly,
as he believed her to be a woman of indiffisrent character,,
although she was the daughter of a highly respectable
tradesman in Lyons, who had been driven into the bank-
ruptcy court by fraudulent transactions on the part of his
partner, but, unable to bear the disgrace, he had committed
suicide.

Briant charged Hipshaw with a commission. Before
his condemnation he had invested a sum of money in the
girl's name. She was then only ten years of age, but was
now within a month or two of being twenty-one. She was
not aware of the investment, which originally was three
thousand pounds, but added interest had largely increased its
value. Hipshaw was asked to seek out the girl, take her
from her mother, if she was still with her mother, and place
her in such a position as would enable her to draw hei
money, and watch over her as a guardian.

Hipshaw readily undertook to carry out to the letter
the wishes of the convict, who seemed much relieved and
was profuse in his thanks. He stated that the one dream of
his broken life was that his daughter should not suffer on his

M

i62 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

accounty and that her career should be bright and happy,
and free from evil.

When Hipshaw returned to Paris he lost no time in
commencing the duty he had taken upon himself. At first
his efforts to discover Lucie Briant were not successful, and
he enlisted the services of a private inquiry firm. Through
this agency, and after a search of some months, he learnt
that Mrs. Briant and her daughter were living in the Mont-
martre quarter under the protection of Pepe Hillo. It
turned out that at one time the fellow had been a client of
Briant's. He was then a young, dashing, handsome fellow,
and having met Mrs. Briant she fell in love with him, and
he secretly became her lover. It was through his connection
with her that he half killed the woman who was then his
companion. She guessed he was paying his attentions to
another, and by way of revenge threatened to betray him to
the police for a robbery he had been concerned in, but so
fiir had managed to avoid suspicion in connection with it.
This threat exasperated him to such an extent — for he was
^idmitted to be a dangerously impulsive and passionate man
— that he nearly beat her to death. And though she re-
covered, the injuries she had received about the head
rendered her a hopeless lunatic, and she had to be confined
in an asylum.

Hillo was tried, convicted, and sentenced to ten years*
hard labour. During the time that he was serving his
sentence Briant himself fell into disgrace and was duly sent
to New Caledonia. When Pepe Hillo had served his time
he returned to Paris and sought out Mrs. Briant. Her
infatuation for the fellow was revived on their meeting again,
and the result was she consented to accept his protection
and took her daughter with her.

The wretched woman had acquired a passion for drink,
but there was every reason to believe that she had jealously
guarded the girl, and had taken every care of her. When
Hipshaw first came in contact with these people Lucie was
nearly twenty-two, and was a strikingly good-looking girl.
She had a superb figure, and an abundance of rich, dark-

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 163

brown hair. Her mother in her youth had been a hand-
some woman ; and her father was a fine man, so that the
girl inherited her good looks from both parents. It was
hardly to be expected, having regard to the atmosphere in
which she lived, that the girl would be altogether untainted.
She looked up to Pepe Hillo as her father, and he professed to
adore her. There is no doubt he had conceived a very
strong afiection for her, and in his own rough, coarse way
he looked after her, and shielded her as far as he could from
the dangers which he, of all men, knew so well beset her
path.

Hipshaw told Pepe Hillo of his visit to New Caledonia
and the duty he had undertaken on behalf of the girl's father.
The defence laid stress upon what they termed an indisputable
fact, that Pepe Hillo placed the fullest confidence in Hipshaw,
whom he knew through his book, and he expressed a strong
desire that the girl should be placed in a better sphere and
away from the influence of her mother, who had become a
victim to the morphia habit and absinthe. He told Hipshaw
that he loved the girl as much as if she was his own child,
and any man who did her a wrong would have to answer
to him with his life. Necessarily HiUo thought it was a grand
chance for the girl's fixture to be watched over by the
Englishman, the Hon. Peter Hipshaw, who was in the
service of the Government of the country, and he bound
himself by oath never to interfere with Lucie, nor to darken
her path, so long as all went well. But he added emphati-
cally that if the girl was wronged he would feel it his duty
to avenge her wrongs.

These points were made a great feature of Pepe Hillo's
defence, and it was hoped they would tell with the judge
and jury. Possibly they would had the victim of Pepe
Hillo's fury been anyone else but the Hon. Peter Hipshaw.

Resuming the thread of the narrative. At first Lucie
Briant displayed no readiness to quit her mother and the
freedom she enjoyed to pass under the restraint which would
necessarily be imposed upon her by a higher social sphere.
And another point much dwelt upon was that Hipshaw at

x2

1 64 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

this time did not make known, either to the girl herself, to
her mother, or to Hillo, that she was entitled to money.
But notwithstanding that omission, he succeeded after a
little time in overcoming such scruples and objections as
Lucie interposed, and she consented to act under his advice
and be guided by him.

Up to this point Mrs. Briant had been kept in ignorance
of what was taking place. Indeed, it was not often that she
had such lucid intervals as enabled her to intelligently grasp
a subject ; but when the final stage in the negotiations was
reached Hipshaw deemed it prudent, no less than his duty,
to acquaint the unhappy woman with the facts. As soon as
she heard them she flew into a fiery fury of passion, and
vowed that her consent should never be given to the girl
going away. And she accused Hipshaw of wanting to take
her for his own base purposes. However, she was soon
pacified by Hillo and a dose of morphia, and in a short time
the subject seemed to pass entirely from her memory, which
had been shattered by her habits.

There was every reason to believe that at this time
Peter Hipshaw*s intentions were perfectly straightforward
and honourable, and that he seriously desired to improve the
girl's moral tone and raise her in the social scale. With a
view to entirely severing all her former connections he
removed her straight away to England, and placed her
under the care of a lady who kept a small boarding-school
near Epsom. Lucie remained there for about nine months.
She abruptly left, and to Hipshaw's astonishment turned up
in Paris again. She complained that she could not endure
the lady nor the discipline of the school, and so had run
away. It appeared that the lady who conducted this estab-
lishment was one of those over-zealous, though no doubt
good-intentioned, people who believe that they have a
special mandate from heaven to be for ever and ever pointing
out to their fellow beings the wickedness of the world in
general and of their fellow beings in particular. In short, the
lady represented a very objectionable English type, who not
only seek to stamp their impress on everyone they come in.

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 165

contact with, but who believe that anyone of foreign birth
must necessarily be profoundly wicked. Such people un-
fortunately have not only brought discredit upon their
country, but have done innnitely more harm than good. It
may readily be understood that the lady in question and
Lucie Briant were not likely to get on well together. The
wonder was that the girl endured the position so long,
for it must have been intolerable. When she told Hipshaw
all she had suffered, she referred to the schoolmistress in terms
very far from flattering, and vowed and declared that she
would die rather than go back again. However, her
guardian had no intention of sending her back. He saw
he had made a mistake, and regretted it. He had tried
to amalgamate oil and water, and had &iled.

In one respect, at least, Lucie's stay in England had
done her no harm. Her removal from the squalid region
of Montmartre to the purer air and better surroundings
of Epsom had developed her into a remarkably handsome
young woman 5 but she had also developed a strong spirit
of self-assertiveness, self-assurance, and independence. She
complained that she had been * stewed up ' long enough, and
was now going to enjoy herself. There was reason to
believe that up to this period Hipshaw had not made it
known to her that she was the possessor of money, but he
now intended to do so. Her manners, however, caused him
to change his mind, and it is reasonable and fair to him to
suppose that he deemed it entirely in her interest to tem-
porarily conceal the information. In order that she might
be free to a large extent, he took apartments for her in a
quiet but highly respectable part of Paris, and he surrounded
her with such things as seemed to gratify her tastes. It was
natural that he should deem it imprudent to leave her much
alone, consequently he passed a good deal of his spare time
with her. She had developed a taste for music. He was
very fond of both music and singing, so they sang and
played together, and of course the inevitable result fol-
lowed. A lively, pretty, and passionate girl and a young
and susceptible man could not constantly be in each

166 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

other's society without falling under the spell of each other's
influence. It was proved in evidence out of the mouth
of the girl herself that at this time Hipshaw ofiered to
secretly marry, send her somewhere to be well educated,
and after that openly acknowledge her as his wife. To this,
however, she objected, on the plea that she did not intend
to bind herself, but as she loved him she was willing to be a
wife to him in everything but name. As she was stubborn
in her refusal to marry, and he was bewitched by her
charms, they entered into the arrangement she herself
suggested ; but before doing so he told her that she was
the owner of a considerable sum of money, and he re-
quested her to determine what was to be done.

At first the news turned her head a bit. She insisted
on the money being paid to her immediately, and would
take no denial, and when she got it she seemed bent on
making it fly as soon as possible, for she gave orders
right and left for clothes and all sorts of things. In this
way several thousand francs went, until Hipshaw's better
counsels prevailed, and she consented to be guided by him.

There was nothing whatever in the strange story as
It was unrolled in the court of justice to prove that
Hipshaw misappropriated one single sou of the girl's
money, though the defence did more than insinuate that
he had done so, and a knowledge of that fact was one
of the impelling influences that led to his death.

The subsequent incidents of the thrilling little drama are
pitiable. For a time the ill-assorted couple appeared to be
happy enough. He was entrusted with the money, and he
distributed it over several investments, not one of which,
unfortunately, turned out a success. When she learnt that
the money was lost she became furious, and discord of a very
serious kind occurred. The worst part of her nature now
displayed itself, and in a moment of madness begotten of
disappointment and temper she took herself off to Mont-
martre, and made complaints to her mother and Pepe Hillo.
But in a few days she had repented of her hastiness, and re-
turned to Hipshaw humbly repentant.

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 167

It was proved that there was another spell of domestic
sunshine, and the pair went away to a secluded and com-
paratively unknown little seaside place in Brittany. But
the young lady soon tired of the seclusion. She yearned for
the gaiety and stir of Paris, and Hipshaw returned to the
capital with her.

It now seemed that she underwent some sudden and
extraordinary change of disposition. She declared that she
had led the life of a nun long enough, and demanded that he
should take her to theatres, concerts, balls, and other places
of amusement. Obviously his social position and his conr
nection with the Embassy rendered it very undesirable that
he should appear in public with her. He suggested that
she should go and live in England, and he promised to visit
her frequently. But she flatly and stubbornly refused to do
anything of the kind. After this, there was a brief, very
brief, spell of peace, and then the storm was renewed.

She complained that Hipshaw neglected her, that he was
ashamed of her ; and prompted, as there was every reason to
believe, by her mother or Hillo, or both, she demanded that
Hipshaw should marry her at once, at the Embassy at first,
and subsequently at the Madeleine. She further demanded
ten thousand francs for her trousseau. It is needless to say
that he gave her clearly to understand her demands would
not and could not be complied with. This threw her once
more into a fury of passion, and off she went to Montmartrc
again. In the course of a day or two Hipshaw was visited
by Pepe Hillo. So much was unmistakably made clear, but
what took place at that interview was never known. Hillo
admitted that he had seen Hipshaw, but he declined to say
anything further.

The day following Pepe Hillo's visit, Lucie returned
to her apartments, and instantly sent an urgent and appeal-
ing message to Hipshaw, imploring him to go and see her,
as she was heartbroken. Of course he went, and a
temporary lull ensued, but it was only of short duration.
Testimony was forthcoming that the ill-starred pair had a
furious quarrel, and that Lucie, in what seemed to be an

i68 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

outburst of frenzy, seized a poker, and ran amok amongst
the furniture and ornaments, smashing everything that came
in her way. He succeeded at last in disarming her, when
she fell into a fit of violent hysterics, and he sent for a
doctor with whom he was acquainted.

Hipshaw must have realised now to the full all the
bitterness of the situation in which he had placed himself ;
and as he saw that he must either dissever himself from
Lucie or quit Paris for ever, practically a ruined man, he
decided on desperate measures. With the assistance of his
medical friend, he made arrangements to have Lucie re-
moved to and confined in a private asylum. He hoped
that a little discipline and mild restraint would have a
beneficial effect, and that in a short time she would yield
to his wishes and go and live in England or elsewhere.
Her removal was accomplished without any difficulty or
resistance on her part. She was r^Uy very ill, and conse-
quently subdued. Hipshaw accompanied her, and she was
given to understand that they were going to a quiet
country place for rest and change. She was too prostrated
to concern herself about anything, and as he was with her
she was contented, for after all, so &r as such a wayward
and wilful nature as hers would permit of love, she loved
him.

The place where they went to was a hamlet not &r
from Rouen, where there was a private asylum kept by a
Doctor Pierre. As soon as Hipshaw had seen her com-
fortably installed in this establishment, he slipped away and
went off to England, hoping that for a time at least he had
freed himself from his bite noir. He little dreamed,
however, how fatal was the step he had taken.

All the innate ferocity of Pepe Hillo's nature had been
aroused by what he considered was the ill-treatment to which
Lucie Briant had been subjected. In common with his
class he did not reason things out, and having conceived him-
self to be wronged, or that somebody in whom he was in-
terested had been wronged, the very first idea that occurred
to him was that he must wreak vengeance. He had by

WHY HIPSHAW WAS ASSASSINATED 169

this time become greatly incensed against Hipshaw^ mainly,
( perhaps, because he believed he had squandered or misappro-

priated her money, and Pepe himself wanted to handle
some of that money ; therefore baulked greed bulked
largely as a factor in his sum total of imaginary wrongs.
Within a few days of Hipshaw's departure from Paris
Hillo learnt that he had gone, and that Lucie had gone,
and the apartments had been given up. That information
made Pepe Hillo mad, and he watched and waited as a
hunter waits for his prey. By some means or other which
were never disclosed he ascertained the exact day when
Hipshaw was to return to Paris, and by equally mysterious
means he introduced himself into his victim's chambers and
lay concealed until the supreme moment came to strike the
assassin's blow.

Whether before the deed was done he attempted to
argue with his victim or not is not known. He himself
stated that he had demanded to know where Lucie had
been taken to, and that Hipshaw drew a revolver from
under his pillow and threatened to shoot him dead. That
this statement was &lse was proved by the fact that no
revolver was found in the house at all. It was also evident
the assassin did not go with peaceful intent, otherwise why
did he arm himself with a formidable dagger ? The fact
was — there can be no doubt about it — the human brute
was impelled by a wild, mad thirst for vengeance. He had
lost Lucie and the small fortune which was hers. The
disappointment maddened him beyond endurance ; he
thirsted for blood, and gratified his tigerish tastes. Poor
Hipshaw had sinned, no doubt ; but his punishment was
out of all proportion to his offence. A stern and terrible
V Nemesis, however, overtook his slayer. The fact of Pepe

Hillo committing the deed with a dagger on which his own
name was scratched was only in keeping with the pro-
verbial stupidity of criminals. Nevertheless, he might
have escaped detection altogether had the wrathful Nemesis
not pursued him. Before descending from the building by
the pipe, he stuck the dagger in the belt he wore round

I70 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

his trousers. That act of carelessness cost him his life.

The dagger caught in a loose joint in the pipe, broke short i^

offy and threw the assassin to the ground, whereby he was

seriously injured. Money, legal skill, and eloquence alike

were used to save him from the guillotine, but all to no

purpose. His bad record and the rank and position of

his victim were against him, and he was sent to the

scafibld.

It was said that the violent death of her lover, Hipshaw,
so afiected Lucie Briant, notwithstanding the way she had
tieated him, that she really went mad, and had to be sent
to one of the State Asylums for incurable imbeciles.

1

#1

171

XII
WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS

These records, dealing as they do with actual facts, and
with crimes, not virtues, must necessarily bring the worst
side of human nature uppermost. But, unhappily, notwith-
standing all that optimists urge, the worser side is the larger
side, for he is a bold man indeed who denies that there is
more sorrow and sin than laughter and goodness in the
world. Human nature is so constituted that hatred — it is a
strong term, but it covers many degrees — I say that hatred
outweighs love. Whether we take humanity in the abstract
or humanity in the concrete, we find that while affection binds
us to a few, there is no such thing as universal brotherhood ;
and as between individuals, so it is between parties, between
communities, between nations — jealousy, greed, thwarted
ambition, these are the passions that are responsible for all
the misery in the world ; and the preachings of Christianity
that have been poured into men's ears for eighteen hundred
years have effected little or no change in the fundamental
principles of our nature. One of the most powerful of
French papers, in dealing quite recently with this very theme,
said :

^ The ideal which men pursue under evil inspiration is
nothing less than the summing up of the passions and vices
which have alwa3rs afHicted humanity. They are the same
vices, the same passions, that burst forth at the door of the
Pretorium when a meeting of the time cried, " Give us
Barabbas ! " It is the same passion, the same vice, which
bellowed in front of the Abbaye prison in September, 1792,

t^^ RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and which also covered itself with the mantle of patriotism
in order to demand and accomplish things for which it is
impossible to find a name. It was the same vices that roused
men to come in packs round the entrance of the revolu-
tionary tribunal and surrounded the scaffolds of the Terror.
Actuated by the same passions, they cried " Death to the
aristocrats. To the guillotine the accomplices of Pitt and
Coburg ! " And it was the same passions that led to the
hideous scenes during the night of August 24, 1572, when
to the sounds of the bells of Saint Germain T Auxerrois, men
yelled, " Kill, kill," and the streets of Paris ran with blood.'

These sentiments of destruction and hatred are of all
time. They are as old as wickedness and brutality, as old as
fuiaticism, as old as lust, as old as the primitive ferocity of
the human animal. Give them fine names, deck them out
with pretentious formulas, adorn them with historic and
ethnographic theories, surround them with mystical flowers,
they will yet remain what they are, what they have always
been, and what they always will be. Singularly applicable
indeed is this little pre&ce to the story I now have to tell ;
and it may serve to put to silence those who so readily cry
out that human nature is not as bad as it is depicted ; and
that there is no romance in real life.

William Westlake was a merchant prince of the good
city of Bristol. He came into the world amidst poverty and
gloom, for his &ther was a bricklayer, his mother a washer-
woman, and they quarrelled like cat and dog. And yet
the wretched woman bore her husband no fewer than
fifteen children. Some died, some went wrong, and one at
least was sent into penal servitude ; but William, who was
the fourth born, seemed to diflfer entirely from the rest, and
managed. Heaven knows how, to acquire some amount of
education, and while he was still of tender years he was
earning a few shillings a week in the capacity of errand boy
to a corn chandler. By the time he was twenty he was an
assistant in the corn chandler's shop ; before he was twenty-
two he had married the corn chandler's only daughter, despite
the violent opposition of all her relatives, the father excepted,

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 173

who discerned the good qualities of the young man and
believed he would make his child an excellent husband.
Not so the rest of the family. They had views above their
station in life. They liked to believe themselves * somebodies.'
They occupied pews in a fashionable church. They dressed
in ^shion, and figured in a good many of the city functions.
Of course, they looked down on the assistant. They re-
garded him as of much commoner mould than themselves.
And his audacity in daring to make love to the daughter ot
the house made them furious. However, he had the father
on his side, and the father was a man who not only knew
his own mind, but had a will, and exerted it. So his
daughter and the assistant were married. Within that year
the father died, but he left his business to his son-in-law, and
the rest of his property he divided amongst his family. For
two or three years Mr. Westlake and his young wife lived
happily. She bore him a son and daughter. The daughter
died ; the son lived. Her relatives seemed to have made up
their minds not to reconcile themselves to her husband, and the
bitterness was increased by his succeeding to the business.
There is no doubt that from the time of the father's death
steady efforts were made to poison the girl-wife*s mind
against her husband. It was hideously wicked, but it was
done, and by people who were church-going people, who
gave liberally to the church, and who helped to send
missionaries to the heathen abroad. But the Christian
principles they professed were not strong enough to subdue
the passions of jealousy, false pride, and greed which were
within them, and burst out on the slightest provocation.

Mrs, Westlake would seem to have been a poor, weak
little woman, who, no doubt under the pernicious influence
of her relatives, began to complain that her husband
neglected her, and devoted all his time to his business. . If
she wanted to go to a theatre she couldn't go because her
husband was otherwise engaged. It was the same with
everything else : her husband's close application to his
business virtually made a prisoner of her, and as he was a
man who did not care a pin for society, but preferred to

174 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

spend every spare moment poring over books, her life was
no doubt a dull one, for she had nothing in common with
the man she had vowed to love, honour, and obey. She had
no resource within herself. Her intellect was a common-
place one, and incapable of grasping any of the problems of
life.

Of course the inevitable result of this sort of thing
followed. The young wife, who had practically been shut
off from her relatives, began to visit them more, to appear
in those circles which they frequented ; and being young and
by no means ill-favoured, she found plenty of young men
ready to offer her protection and escort whenever she wished
to go anywhere. Two or three years of this kind of life
followed, during which the wife enjoyed herself according
to her lights, and the husband toiled, and toiled, and toiled,
ever expanding his business, ever increasing his wealth, for
his one great ambition was to rear up a &mily. His son
should go to a public school, thence to college. He should
become a scholar and gentleman, and breed up a race of
gentlemen who should have no cause to despise the founder
of the family, although his own father had been a drunken
bricklayer, and his mother a vulgar washerwoman. It was
a dream that other men had dreamed, and in some cases
their dreams had been realised. But it was not to be so in
this instance. One day the Fates rang down the curtain
on a striking domestic tableau : faithless wife, a darkened
home, a broken-hearted husband, robbed not only of his wife
but his son, upon whom he had set all his hopes, and through
whom the family were to be placed on a pedestal of distinc-
tion.

So much of this pitiable story was revealed to Vincent
Trill when, some years later, he was called upon to
exercise his faculties in a matter which will be dealt with in
its proper place.

For a brief period it would seem that Mr. Westlake
abandoned himself to an almost maddening despair. Then
his stern, inflexible nature asserted itself. He rose from the
blow a changed man, soured, disappointed, faithless. He

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 175

made no effort to discover his erring wife, nor the son upon
whom he had set so many hopes. He applied himself with
renewed energy to his business. His ambition now was,
apparently, to become a merchant prince and pile up a
fortune. By his fellow citizens he was regarded as an
upright, just, and honourable man, whose word was his bond.
He was a keen bargainer, but he was never known to wrong
a man out of a farthing. So the years passed, and, yielding
to pressure put upon him, he allowed himself to be
nominated for municipal office, and ultimately he became
mayor of the city ; and so ably did he fill the office, and with
such credit to himself and the town, that he was unanimously
elected for the position a second year, and might have served
a third had he been inclined. But he insisted on retiring,
and the citizens marked their appreciation of his services by
presenting him with a full-length portrait of himself, an
illuminated address, and a costly service of silver. This
latter seemed almost like a mockery, for in his desolated
home he kept little or no company, and lived in a plain and
unostentatious style. But it is very possible that service of
plate called into existence new desires, and might have
been responsible for what followed.

During his mayoralty he had devoted himself with so
much energy to his duties that his health showed signs of
breaking down, and he was medically advised to take a
holiday. He was not a man who cared to play. Work to
him was life, but now he was forced to recognise that the
promptings of nature cannot be ignored, and as the heads
of the various departments of his huge business, which had
become a general one, were all able and trusted men, he
determined to go to Italy. He had never been abroad.
Indeed, he had scarcely ever indulged in a holiday before,
but the reason he selected Italy was this. He did a large
trade with Italy, and in consequence he had exerted himself
to acquire a knowledge of the Italian language, which he
wrote fairly well and spoke with tolerable fluency. It
was, therefore, in the nature of things that he should select
Italy for his first holiday. Moreover, he had long had a

176 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

standing invitation to visit one of his customers at Milan,
and so to Milan he went.

He spent two months in Milan^ and while there a
strange incident happened. He was sitting one night with
some friends outside a cafi^ when a child — z flower-seller —
came up and begged the gentlemen to buv some of her
flowers. She had a sweet voice, and a wonderful face, but
she was unwashed and in rags. Nevertheless, neither dirt
nor rags could rob the voice of its melody and richness, nor
detract from the exquisite beauty of the face ; while about
a perfectly shaped head clustered a rich tangled mass of
raven-black hair. She was not more than ten years of age,
but bright, quick, and of singular intelligence. With
tears streaming down her cheeks, she begged somebody to
buy her flowers, as her mother lay a-dying from starvation.

Mr. Westlake's friends tossed her a few coppers, and
roughly bade her be off; but Westlake himself bade her
stay, and questioned her in his keen way ; drew from her
something of her story — her only brother serving in the
army, her father dead, her mother dying from want and
consumption, and between her and actual starvation only
this poor black-eyed child and her little bunches of flowers.
No relatives, at least none that the child knew of; at
any rate none who would come forward to help.

Such was the commonplace tale told to the Englishman
outside a cafi on a glorious summer night by a ragged,
uncared-for Italian child. Westlake learned her address,
pressed a gold coin into her hand, and sent her off with
bounding footsteps and a light heart. When some weeks
later Mr. Westlake left Milan to return to his native city
of Bristol, that Italian child — whose name was Bettina
Ferrari — was his travelling companion. He had inquired
into her story, found it true in every detail, and that the
mother was even worse than had been represented ; indeed,
she died a few dajrs later. An old and disreputable uncle
turned up, and not only claimed the rags and rubbish that
were in the poverty-stricken home, but wanted to carry off
Bettina as welL Against this course, however, Mr. West-

WILLIAM WESTLAKFS HEIRESS 177

lake apposed a bold front, and proposed to the girl that
she should accompany him to England, and become his
adopted daughter. She jumped at the oiFer. She screamed
with delight, and called down blessings from heaven on the
head of the good signor.

As the child was an orphan and under age Mr. Westlake,
by the advice of his friends, applied to a Judge for legal
permission to adopt the girl, and this permission being
readily forthcoming, he took her under his control, and her
vagabond life ended, while a new and happier life dawned
upon her. On his arrival home Mr. Westlake lost no time
in providing this Italian waif with teachers, and he lavished
upon her all the affection and regard of a devoted father.
Her beauty was the admiration of everyone, her splendid
voice was cultivated by Italian tutors, and so apt a pupil
was she in every way that ere many years had passed she
had become a proficient scholar.

It need hardly be said that this beautiful girl whom
Mr. Westlake had rescued from the gutter entirely changed
the current of his life. He still went on amassing wealth,
but his home now was fiill of joyous associations, and plenty
of use was found for the silver service which had been
presented to him by the citizens of his native town. He
had the most perfect faith in Bettina ; he denied her
nothing ; the carriage in which she rode wasn't surpassed
by any in Bristol. The clothes she wore were the finest
money could purchase, and thanks to her art instincts and
refined nature the mansion in which she and her adopted
father lived was a house of rare treasures, paintings,
sculpture, bronzes, bric-d-brac and articles de vertu of all
kinds ; and the young, bright, beautiful girl was the soul
and genius of it all. She had reached womanhood now,
being twenty-one years of age, and her twenty-first birthday
was marked by a brilliant function, which had seldom been
surpassed, and rarely equalled by a private person, in the
good town of Bristol.

. As no secret was made of Mr. Westlakc's intention to
leave all his wealth to his adopted daughter, many were the

N

178 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

young men who tried to ingratiate themselves in her and
his favour ; but Bettina had few or no secrets from her
father, and while he gave her to understand that she was
a perfectly free agent, he begged her to consult him in all
matters affecting her future happiness, and she declared that
her love and reverence for him were so great that his word
and^wishes were to her as a sacred law. He had given her
a bright and happy life, and she had revived once more his
interest in the world and his fellow men. As they took
their airing every day in their carriage, she with her superb
beauty, her brilliant eyes, and wealth of luxuriant black
hair, threw into striking contrast his somewhat bowed
figure and his silver hair straggling in unkempt confusion
about his fine face. Many were the envious glances
directed to them, and many a hat was raised and bow made
to the dark-eyed heiress of * Old Westlake.' Amongst the
young men who had secured the privilege of visiting at her
foster-father's house was one rather attractive fellow who
bore the name of Cornelius Dale. He had been introduced
by the son of one of Mr. Westlake's customers, and it was
understood that he had been born and brought up in
London, where his father was in practice as a lawyer ; and
that he, Cornelius himself, had been studying law, but had
no taste for it, and had come to Bristol to spend some time
with an aunt.

It soon became evident that this young fellow was
trying his hardest to make himself agreeable to Bettina,
and a certain careless Bohemianism about him, added to a
most plausible manner and a cheery, bright disposition,
won upon her. Mr. Westlake watched closely, but said
nothing. He had unbounded faith in Bettina, and was
sure she would do nothing rash. For himself he did not
take kindly to young Dale, who struck him as being a
shallow sort of man for whom work of any kind had no
attraction. Moreover, he had received only a superficial
education, which seemed rather a strange circumstance,
having regard to his being the son of a lawyer. In short,
Mr. Westlake formed a far from favourable opinion of

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 179

young Dale, and yet he was determined to speak no word on
the subject until Bettina spoke to him. He was perfectly
convinced in his own mind that she would open her heart to
him in good time, and as he was so proud of her, so devoted
to her, and so sincerely desirous of making her life perfect
as far as in him lay, he would think no thought or utter no
word calculated to prejudice Dale unless he had full justifica-
tion for it.

One day, as her foster-father anticipated she would do,
Bettina went to him and said :

* Father, I have something I want to tell you.' The
blushes on her beautiful face and her downcast eyes betrayed
her thoughts, and Mr. Westlake had to urge her to proceed.
* It*s about Mr. Dale, father.'

* Yes, dear, and what of him ?'

* He has told me that he loves me/

* Yes, yes, and what of yourself ? Do you love him ?*

* I — I am not quite sure — but, but I think I do.'

* Very well, my darling. If it should turn out that your
happiness is bound up in that young man I shall not stand in
your way, but I ask you to promise me solemnly to do
nothing to encourage him until I have made due inquiries
and learnt something more about him. Remember that at
present we know very little.'

Bettina threw her arms about her father's neck, and
exclaimed with all the vehemence of her passionate nature :

* Father, to you I owe everything, and the man does not
live who could win me from you without your approval. I
know how truly you desire my happiness, and I should be
worse than mad to go against your wishes.'

Mr. Westlake was much touched at this display of filial
affection and obedience, and he assured her that she was free
to marry whom she chose, if she wanted to marry, so long
as the man of her choice was an honest man.

Mr. Westlake lost no time in making the inquiries he

promised. He did this through his own solicitor, and in dxit

course he was furnished with a report which terribly shocked

Mr. Westlake. It set forth that Dale's statement that he

k2

i8o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

was the son of a solicitor and had been studying law was
absolutely false. He had at one time been in a shipping
office in London, but having been caught in the act of
pilfering he was given in charge, and suffered three months*
imprisonment. After that, it appeared, he had gone upon
the stage, and having decided histrionic ability he gave
promise of a distinguished career, but soon tired of his new
vocation, and drifted into vagabondism again, eking out an
existence by playing at amateur theatricals and reciting at
private parties. Of the aunt with whom he had come to
stay in Bristol very little was known, but it was unmistak-
able that she was given to drink, and had occasional outbursts.
Mr. Westlake conveyed this information to Bettina, who
heard it with some concern, but entirely agreed with her
father that Mr. Cornelius Dale should be told in the most
peremptory manner that he must come to the house no more.
Mr. Westlake took upon himself to convey the intimation
to Dale, who heard it with every indication of extreme
mortification, if not of horror, for it presented itself to him,
no doubt, in the light of a prize which had suddenly been
torn from his grasp as he was about to seize it. cut he
went his way sullenly and broken, as it seemed, and Mr.
Westlake breathed more freely when his unwelcome visitor
had departed ; and he thanked God fervently that the beauti-
ful girl on whom he had lavished all his love, and who was
to him as the apple of his eye, had escaped the threatened
danger. Had she been less intelligent, less intellectual,
Cornelius Dale's fascination might have prevailed over her,
and she would have &llen into the trap which he had so
wickedly endeavoured to set for her.

This unpleasant little incident left an unpleasant odour, so
to speak, in the Westlake home for a short time, but father
and daughter were both resolved that they would get rid ot
it as soon as possible, and in the course of the ensuing fort-
night they set off for the Continent and made a little tour
through France and Italy, taking in Rome and Naples,
lingering at the latter place for three weeks basking in the
sunshine and enjoying the exquisite beauty of the environs.

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS i8i

At length they returned home and things assumed their
wonted placidity again, but Mr. Westlake resolved to
exercise a little more care as to the visitors who would be
privileged in future to enjoy the hospitality of his house.
For the precious sake of the jewel of that house, the treasure
of his heart, it was necessary to be more guarded.

It was little more than a year after the Cornelius
Dale incident that Mr. Westlake went up to London on
important business. It had been a year of all but unalloyed
happiness to him. Bettina's devotion to him had increased, if
that were possible, and during the time she had shown not
the slightest disposition to allow any one gentleman to pay
her more attention than another. She declared to her father
that all her love was his. She had none for anyone else.
She was to have accompanied him to London, but it chanced
that she had been suffering for a- few days with a slight sore
throat, and it was deemed advisable not to run the risk of
increasing it by a railway journey in such inclement weather
as then prevailed, for it was the black and bitter month of
November.

Mr. Westlake had only been in the metropolis thiee days
when he was summoned by telegraph to return home
immediately, as something had occurred. He lost no time
in obeying the summons, and had it not happened that a train
was starting within an hour after he would have ordered a
special. On reaching his home he learnt to his horror that
Bettina had gone out the morning after he left and had not since
returned. She had gone on foot, saying that she wanted a brisk
walk. Inquiries had been made at such places as it was
thought probable she might have called at, but no tidings
could be got. Never before since she had been with him had
she stayed away from her home, and he knew of no one
whose hospitality she would be likely to accept for so long
a time.

As soon as he could he started off a little army of
messengers to make inquiries in every likely place, and he
himself drove in the carriage to various people, but no news
was forthcoming. Then the police were communicated with,

."•^

1 82 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

but after diligent search the result was the same. Hair
distracted, Mr. Westlake, through advertisements in the
papers, and by means of bills posted all over the town, offered
a large reward for the recovery of his foster-daughter, but
nothing came of it. Then he telegraphed to Vincent Trill,
asking him to come to Bristol immediately, and as soon as
ever the astute detective arrived he at once set to work to
try and solve the problem.

Mr. Westlake was broken-hearted. His white hair had
become whiter, and his face had assumed a drawn and
haggard appearance, clearly indicating how cruel was the
anguish he was suffering from.

Trill established the fact that Bettina had made no
preparation for remaining away, for she had taken nothing
with her, and had even left her watch and chain and some
rings behind, but he elicited from a female servant that she,
the servant, had been stopped in the street by a woman who
asked her to deliver a note to Bettina, which the servant did,
and received five shillings for her trouble. This servant had
not volunteered the information for fear of punishment and
dismissal, but Trill in his inquiries had wormed it out of her.
No reliable description of the woman who had given the
note and paid the five shillings was forthcoming, as it was
dark at the time. But the circumstance was suspicious,
and Trill was trying to turn it to account when all Bristol
was shocked, and Mr. Westlake was stunned, by the report
that the body of a young woman with her throat cut
had been recovered from the Avon, and from the description
there was little doubt that the body was that of Bettina
Ferrari Westlake, as she was called. This proved too true.
It was Bettina, and Bettina had been murdered, but there
were indications that she had struggled desperately for her
life. Her hands, arms, breast, and &ce were gashed, showing
with what brutal ferocity she had been attacked. Her
clothes were torn to shreds, and there was an awful wound
on the left-hand side of her throat. It was the result of a
stab, which had severed the jugular vein.

It was unmistakable murder, murder most horrible. All

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 183

murder is horrible, but the horror of this one was enhanced
by the frightful brutality that had been displayed. Hex-
pocket had been emptied, but a small jewelled locket con-
taining a portrait of Mr. Westlake still hung on her bosom.
In her left hand, which was clutched firmly in the agony of
death, was a bunch of brown hair, which probably in her
struggle for life she had torn from the head of her assailant.
That bunch of hair was a clue which Trill knew how to
turn to the best account, slender though it was.

Eight days had passed from the time of the young lady
leaving her home to the finding of her body in the Avon.
The deduction was that she had been murdered on the very
day she went out, therefore the murderer had got a good
start. Mr. Westlake was prostrated, and the doctors doubted
if he would ever speak again or be able to recognise anyone,
therefore he could render no assistance in the inquiry. But
Trill had learnt from him before the recovery of the girl's
body the whole of the story as told in the first part of this
record. It seemed — and perhaps it really was so — that
Westlake had had some premonition of the tragedy that was
to be revealed sooner or later, and had deemed it prudent to
give all the details of the girl's history and of his and her
connection, knowing, as he did know, that if aught evil had
happened to her the shock would be too much for him, and
he might suddenly go down into the grave.

The body of Bettina had been taken out of the river at
a place called Hanham Mills, about four miles above Bristol,
and there was no doubt it had been carried there by the
drift of the tide. The medical evidence established con-
clusively that the poor girl was * murdered before being
thrown into the water, and Trill turned his attention to
discovering, if possible, the place of the murder. With
extraordinary patience and minuteness the banks on both
sides were thoroughly examined, until suspicious traces were
observed at Clifton on the Bristol side. Further examination
showed that in a wood close by a desperate life and death
struggle had taken place. The ground was trampled into
^i\rt^ twigs and branches were broken down, and leaver an^

1 84 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

grass were found which had been literally drenched in
blood. The footsteps indicated two persons only. There
plainly enough were the marks made by Bettina's boots, and
the imprint of a man's feet. From the trampled mire Trill
picked out four artificial teeth attached to a gold plate.
They had never been in the mouth of the murdered girl,
for her teeth were perfect. In the struggle, therefore, they
had probably dropped from the mouth of the murderer, and
Trill resolved that if he still lived those teeth and the bunch
of hair taken from the dead girl's hand should bring her
brutal destrover to the scafibld.

Trill haa heard the story about the rejected lover, Cor-
nelius Dale, and he set out to find him. He might be
innocent, probably was, but it was as well to know some-
thing about him. The element of chance in all detective
work is a most potent fector.

Dale had been introduced into the Westlake home by
the son of one of Westlake's customers. But when ques-
tioned this young fellow declared that he had only met Dale
three or four times in a billiard saloon in the town much
frequented by the young prigs who liked to play the swell,
and that Dale had worried his life out to introduce him to
Bettina. The * aunt,* who was known as Mrs. Hurst, was
visited and questioned, but very little could be made of her.
She was a pitiable wreck, intellectually and physically, by
years and years of secret tippling. She declared that until
her nephew had recently visited her, she had not seen him
for years, and did not know where he was at that ihoment.

Trill's next move was to visit all the leading dentists of
the town and subniit the gold-cased teeth to their inspec-
tion, but not one was able to identify them, and there was
a consensus of opinion that they were London work. For
a few days Trill was in London, and dentists were invited
to call at Scotland Yard and examine the teeth. One day
a man came, looked at them, and then declared they were
his work. A little later reference to his business books
jshowed that they had been made about four years before to
the order and for the use of one Philip Keith, whose jaw

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 185

had been greatly damaged by an accidental blow from a
stick. Keith was an actor, and one morning during a re-
hearsal two of the actors were practising a fencing bout with
sticks. Keith was standing near, and accidentally he was
struck. That was the story told as the dentist remembered
it. Possibly it wasn't true, but the fact remained he had
fitted the teeth in Keith's jaw, and Keith had dropped them
while struggling with his poor victim in the Clifton wood —
at least that was Trill's deduction. Otherwise, how did
they get from Philip Keith's mouth to the wood at Clifton ?
At the time the teeth were fitted Keith was playing an en-
gagement at an East End theatre, and Trill had to determine
whether or not Keith and Dale were one and the same
person. Necessarily every inquiry was made at the theatre,
though it was not stated that Keith was believed to be Dale,
and that Dale was suspected of one of the most ferocious
crimes of the century. These inquiries brought to light one
little fact, which was interesting and of great use. The lady
who filled the part of singing chambermaid at the theatre
was a Miss Lucie Harcourt. She had been there for
several years. To her Keith had made love, and for a time
had been accepted as her lover. But they quarrelled, and
in a fit of temper Keith threw up his engagement. For
some time afterwards he continued to write to her j but she
did not answer his letters, and had no idea what had become
of him.

Acting on this information Trill devised a little trap. It
might fail in its object, but it was worth a trial, for the pro-
verbial stupidity of criminals often enables them to be
trapped with ease. The trap was this : with Miss Lucie
Harcourt's connivance an advertisement was inserted in all
the theatrical papers, as well as all the morning and evening
journals. It was worded thus : * Will Philip Keith commu-
nicate with Miss L. H., at the Theatre ? She desires

very much to see him.' This advertisement continued to
appear for about a fortnight, when one afternoon two police
officers, armed with a warrant, arrested at a cheap lodging-
house in Greenwich a young man who was known there a$

1 86 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Frank Metford. He was charged with being concerned
in the murder of a young lady at Clifton, near Bristol.

The reason he was arrested was that he had written
to Miss Lucie Harcourt in answer to the advertisement.
He explained that owing to a stupid freak he got into
trouble with his relatives, and had assumed the name of
Frank Metford so that they might not discover him. But he
begged and prayed of her for the old love's sake to lend him
a few pounds, as he was ^ stony broke ' and wanted clothes,
so that he might try and get an engagement.

The night of the very day on which that fetal letter was
written Vincent Trill sought for and obtained shelter in that
Greenwich lodging-house, and satisfied himself that Frank
Metford was the Cornelius Dale he was searching for. The
bunch of hair taken from the murdered girl's hand had
been torn from his head. The teeth found in the mud
where the death struggle had taken place had feUen from
his mouth.

Pitilessly and sternly the Nemesis of just vengeance
forged a damning chain of circumstantial evidence about him
in which there wasn't a single weak link, and after a patient
and sensational trial he was cast for death. And to add to
the pitifulness of it all, the shameless woman in Bristol who
was known as Mrs. Hurst and posed as the murderer's aunt
was the feithless wife of Mr. Westlake, and the debased
being who had so ferociously done Mr, Westlake's heiress
to death, out of pure revenge, was the offspring of the ill-
assorted match. Under the training of his wretched mother
he had developed into an adventurer and had lived by his
wits for y^ars. At last, probably owing to the promptings
of his mother, he conceived the daring scheme of trying to
marry the beautiful girl whom Mr. Westlake had taken into
his house, and allowed to grow into his heart. Foiled in
that, he brooded over his disappointment until only blood
would satisfy him. He had been heard to declare that he
hated his fether and would be revenged upon him. How he
lured the beautiful girl to her doom was never known, for
froui the dav of his condemnation to the fetal moment when

WILLIAM WESTLAKE'S HEIRESS 187

the noose was round his neck he preserved a sullen and
morose silence. He confessed nothing, he asked for nothing.
He refused all religious consolation, and went to his doom
with unfaltering step and a smile on his ghastly face. He
was one of those human problems which have puzzle$i
students in all ages.

Mr. Westlake lingered for twelve months, but was a
shattered wreck, though he recovered sufficiently to alter his
will and leave his wealth to various public institutions ; and
over the grave of the sweet girl who had made his later
years so happy he placed one of the most beautiful monu-
ments ever carved by the hand of man, on which was
sculptured this touching and eloquent inscription :

* To THE Memory of
Bettina Ferrari Westlake.

The world was darkened when she passed to where God's
angels waited with open arms to receive her.'

1 88 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

XIII
THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN

It was in the early stages of his public career that Vincent
Trill was called upon to investigate the case which is here
recorded. He refers to it as a remarkable one, and it serves
well to illustrate the extremes of wickedness to which men
will go in their eagerness to acquire wealth.

It appears that soon after the suppression of the Indian
Mutiny, a Major M^Niven, who had fought through the
Mutiny, was retired on a pension, although he had not
reached the limit of age when a man, however robust and
capable he may be, is obliged to quit the service. But
M^Niven had been so knocked about, and so severely
injured, that he was no longer capable of bearing arms.
Consequently a grateful country relegated him to the shelf
and gave him a pension. M^Niven, who was a Scotchman,
had put in his time in the service of the Hon. East India
Company, having entered the service as a cadet. Almost
synchronising with his retirement the news reached him
that, owing to the death of his only sister, who had led a
miserly life for many years, he became possessed of very
extensive property, reputed to be worth from fifteen to
twenty thousand pounds a year. The greater portion of
this property was situated in England, but some of it was
in Scotland, and the Major being a native of Edinburgh, he
elected to take up his residence in that city, which he had
not visited since his boyhood.

Major M'Niven was said to be rather eccentric^ and

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 189

the acquisition of wealth developed in him the worst side
of his character. He conceived an idea that there was a
conspiracy to deprive him of his property, and the conse-
quence was, he isolated himself entirely from all his
relatives, and lived a hermit sort of life in a small self-
contained house near Queensferry. The only thing in
which he seemed to take any interest was a patch of garden
surrounding his dwelling ; but as he was unable owing to
his injuries to do more than superintend, he employed a
man named James Ferguson to do the work of the garden,
while Ferguson's wife looked after the house, and their son,
a strapping and remarkably intelligent youth of eighteen
or thereabouts, acted as body-servant to the Major, who,
owing to his injuries, was unable to dress or undress
himself.

Thus for some years the Major jogged on, presumably
enjoying himself in his own way, although he lived as a
miser instead of a man of means. Then somewhat suddenly
he died, and as he had not been medically attended an
inquiry had to be made as to the cause of death, which
was conclusively proved to be due to the rupture of a blood-
vessel in the brain. He had been * out of sorts ' for a few
days, but seemingly had attached no importance to his
ailments ; and yet there was reason to suppose that he had
some premonitions of his near end, inasmuch as he went to
a solicitor named John Cowrie and gave him instructions to
prepare a will. It was then disclosed that he had been
married a great many years. He had married a lady born
in India of white parents. He had had a son by her, but
when the boy was in his tenth year she eloped with an
Eurasian Civil Servant and took the boy with her. From
that day the Major had never set eyes upon his wife and
child. He had conceived a hatred for her that might have
tempted him to take the law into his own hands had he
met her. However, it was not to be, and he never heard
tale nor tidings about her. There is no doubt, however,
that he always had a hankering after his child, and the
instructions he gave the solicitor were to the e£Fect that all

190 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

his property, with the exception of a small annuity to his
servants, was to go to his son, and no expense was to be
spared to discover him. In the event of the son being
dead, his money was to be distributed amongst certain
charities which he named, and he distinctly said that his
brother, some years his junior, was to have nothing, as he
considered him a wastrel. Such were the instructions the
solicitor received, but before the will could be finally drawn
up and executed the Major died. The young brother
referred to, of whom nobody knew anything, at once put
in a claim as heir-at-law, and as all efforts to trace the son
failed, Richard M^Niven, the brother, became possessed
of the property. It was revealed that the family had been
a very divided one. There had been dissensions, mostly
about money, and estrangements which were never made
up. There were two girls : one died young, the other, a
very handsome young woman, married a Lancashire cotton
spinner, who amassed great wealth. He had no children,
and was killed suddenly by being thrown from a gig. He
left all his wealth to his widow, and miserly instincts
developed in her ; she lived a solitary life for years, and then
left all she possessed to her brother the Major, as she bore
great enmity against her youngest brother. Fate, however,
gave him the property after all, and as he was differently
constituted from the other members of the family, he
resolved to enjoy himself, and with that view bought a
very charming old-fashioned residence at Bowness, near
Windermere, in the English lake country. He was
married, and had two grown-up daughters. His wife had
been a domestic servant, and as he had never been able to
do any good for himself, they had lived in an impoverished
condition.

Under their altered circumstances they began to pose
^s well-bred people, and Mr. M^Niven aimed at leading the
life of a country gentleman. His wife blossomed into a
fashionably dressed lady, while their daughters raised their
heads very high indeed in the air. They took to riding
thoroughbreds ; a carriage was set up, with a coat of arms

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 191

on its panels ; and a retinue of servants was employed to
minister to their wants. In a small country place like
Bowness the M*Nivens were regarded as great people, and
as nothing was known of their antecedents it was supposed
that, instead of being parvenues, they had been accustomed
to wealth and good society all their lives. For two years
nothing occurred to dim the sunshine of their prosperity.
They had taken a town house in London so as to be in
the metropolis during the London season, and it was
currently reported that the youngest daughter had become
engaged to a young gentleman who was heir to a baronetcy
and ten thousand a year. But suddenly there was a bolt
from the blue, in the shape of a lawyer's letter informing
them that the late Major M*Niven's son was living, and
would arrive in England in a few days to prosecute his
claim to his father's estate. The writer added : * We have
every reason to believe that the claimant will have no
difficulty whatever in establishing his identity, and proof
will be forthcoming at the proper time.*

As may be imagined, this communication caused a
tremendous shock in the M^Niven home, for it was pretty
generally known that Major M^Niven had had a son ; and
Mr. M*Niven was well aware that as there had been no
absolute proof of the death of that son, but only circum-
stantial proof, he held the property on sufferance, so to speak.
Nevertheless he was not disposed to let go his hold without
a struggle. Possession is nine points of the law, and he
resolved not to be turned out easily, so he at once placed
his ailairs in the hands of a well-known firm of London
solicitors, and there must have been deep chuckling as the
legal leeches saw the loom of huge bills of costs ; they knew
that whoever lost they would be sure to win, for your
lawyer docs nothing on speculation ; he will certainly
have the oyster, although his client gets nothing but the
shells*

The claimant, it may be mentioned, was a young man
of about thirty. He had come direct from India, or rather
from Cashmere, where, according to his own account, he had

192 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

been living with his mother, who was then married to a
Mr. MoUoy ; but she was too old and feeble — having been
a confirmed invalid for a long time — to accompany him to
England. He had only quite recently heard that he was
entitled to property through his father's death, by having
seen by the merest chance an advertisement in the * Times,*
which was left with some other papers in a * Travellers*
Rest ' that had been occupied by a small party of English
gentlemen who were travelling through Cashmere. In
support of his claim he was furnished with a certificate of
his birth, with various letters written to him by his father
years before, with a daguerrotype portrait of himself when he
was about seven years of age, and with the sworn testimony
of various people, including an Indian judge, several military
officers, and officials in the Civil Service. Everything
seemed so clear and straightforward, and, moreover, bore
the test of superficial investigation so well, that it is an open
secret Mr. M*Niven was advised to try and come to terms
with the heir, with a view to getting an allowance from
him. But M*Niven was not the man to part from his
riches easily. The pleasure of being a monied man was so
great that the prospects of reverting to poverty again ap-
palled him, and, as he afterwards confessed, more in a fit of
desperation than from any real hope of ultimate success, he
decided to try and trace the career of his nephew from the
time of his birth. To that end he secured the services of
Vincent Trill, who was instructed to proceed to India
secretly, and find out whether or not all that the claimant
had stated was true.

Trill started upon his mission armed with all the in-
formation about the family that could be supplied to him.
Previous to leaving he spent a few days in the neighbour-
hood of the late Major M*Niven*s residence at Queensferry,
and learnt a good deal of the habits of that somewhat
eccentric gentleman. On his arrival in India he lost no
time in proceeding to Cashmere, where the erring widow of
the Major was then living. He found that to a large ex-
tent she had adopted the habits and costume of the natives,

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 193

and to his surprise she was in sound and robust health,
although the claimant had represented her as being a con-
firmed and enfeebled invalid. She further intended — so the
current gossip ran — to go to England as soon as her son's
claim to the property was confirmed. Trill was rather
struck by this, and he wondered why she had not gone to
England when her son went. That seemed to him a
somewhat suspicious circumstance, and set him pondering.
An ordinary mind would not probably have seen anything
in it. Nor did Trill himself attach much, if any, im-
portance to it. Nevertheless, it led him to resolve to
interview the lady, not in his character of Vincent Trill,
the investigator, but as a chance traveller who took some
interest in the case.

In a place like Cashmere, where English travellers are
few and far between, there was nothing out of the way in
one calling upon a fellow-countryman, even without an
introduction. He found that she was still with the Eurasian
with whom she had eloped, but he had degenerated into a
&t, lazy, opium-smoking vagabond, whose only income, and
that a small one, was derived from a rice plantation and a
vineyard which he owned, although he did not give himself
much concern about them, but preferred to smoke and
gamble all day.

Mrs. M^Niven, who was known as Mrs. MoUov, did
not receive Trill — who represented himself as a gentleman
travelling for his pleasure — very graciously, although she
was not absolutely rude. But when he ventured to remark
that he had heard that her son was in England prosecuting
his claim to a large estate, she displayed great animation and
interest, and cagerlv inquired if he knew anything of the
case. Trill repliea that what he knew he had gathered
from the papers, for owing to its somewhat romantic
nature it had been eagerly seized upon by journalists as
* good copy.' The lady now plied her visitor with questions
with a view to eliciting his opinion as to her son's success
and incidentally she made the following remark : ^ I wonder
if there is any suspicion about his identity ! '

o

194 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Trill records that from the moment he heard that
remark he began to think there was something wrong, and
that this woman, who had been represented as a helpless
invalid, was playing a deep game*

Why should she be anxious to know if the identity of
the claimant was suspected if there was no reason for
suspicion ? An honest person conscious of his rectitude
does not pause to consider if he is suspected of dishonesty.

' What leads you to suppose it possible there should be
any suspicion ? ' Trill asked.

' Ob, I don't exactly know. But, you see, it is so
many years ago since lu; left his father, and during that
time he has never had any communication with any
member of his family/

^Well, of course, that somewhat goes against him.
But still, as the son of the late Major M^Niven, he should
have no di£Eculty in placing his rights beyond suspicion.'

^ True, and yet he may find it difficult.'

<Why?'

* Because there are so many things he will have to
prove.'

'Just so, but he should have no difficulty in proving
them.'

* It's easier said than done, I expect. It's not likely the
present owner will walk quietly out of possession simply
because a man comes forward and says, '^ I am the rightiful
owner of this property." '

' No, of course not. In such cases a lawsuit is inevit-
able.'

' That is where it is, and that is where my son may fail,'
exclaimed the lady.

* I can't see that,' insisted Trill.

'It's easily seen. Lawyers will be paid to rake up
every little thing against him likely to throw doubt on his
identity ; and any discrepancy in his statements may be
fatal to him.'

' There is not the slightest doubt,' said Trill, ' that the
uncle's lawyers will use every possible endeavour to discredit

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 195

the claimant ; but^ really, Mrs. Molloy, I cannot for the
life of me see how your son, if he is your son, and the son
of the late Major M^Niven, is going to be ousted from his
position of lawful heir. We know what lawyers will do,
and how utterly unscrupulous they are in their professional
capacity ; but if he is furnished with the necessary proofs
that will be called for he need not fear all the lawyers in
London.'

*Well, we shall see, we shall see,' muttered Mrs.
M^Niven, rather to herself than as if she was replying to a
remark $ and the expression of her face betrayed the mental
anxiety she was suffering from. Trill left her with a
strong opinion that she was party to a conspiracy, and he
resolved to get at the bottom of it.

He found from cautious inquiries he made in the district
that nobody knew much or anything about Mrs. * MoUoy V
son. Certainly she had had no son living with her ;
although a European gentleman was known to have visited
her recently. This feet brought to light a discrepancy at
once, because the claimant averred that he had not heard of
the death of his father before owing to his living in the
wilds of Cashmere. Trill ascertained that she had resided
in that part of Cashmere for about four years, and his next
step was to discover where she had lived previous to going
to Cashmere. He found that by a law of the country every
owner of property had to be registered, and his nationality
stated, and the pkce from whence he had come. By this
means he discovered that Mr. * Molloy ' described himself as
a British subject, native of India. Last place of residence,
Benares.

To Benares Trill turned his steps, feeling that there,
probably, he might get hold of some interesting particulars.
Molloy is not altogether an uncommon name ; but, of
course, in a place like Benares, where Europeans are
relatively few, their movements may be traced much more
easily than in a place like Calcutta or Bombay even. He
found after a little inquiry that an Eurasian, calling himself
Molloy, and his wife had kept a small general European

196 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

store in Benares for several years. During their residence
in the city they buried a son who died from dysentery, and
whose age was given as twenty-five. He had helped his
father and mother in the management of the store.

This was a revelation indeed, for the presumption was
that the young man who had been buried in the name of
Molloy was none other than the only son of M^or M'Niven,
and if that were so it was obvious that Mrs. M^Niven was a
party to a very serious fraud. The ^ MoUoys ' had secretly sold
their store to a native baboo, and had left Benares hurriedly,
neglecting to pay several heavy debts they owed. It was not
known what had become of them. It turned out that
during his illness Mrs. M*Niven's son — that is, the young
fellow known as • Molloy* — had been attended by an
English doctor practising amongst the Europeans in Benares.
This gentleman was still there, and Trill was able to inter-
view him. He expressed himself as positive that the patient
could not have been the son of the Eurasian who called
himself Molloy, as he was undoubtedly a pure-blooded
European. He bore a strong resemblance, however, to Mrs.
Molloy, and he was conspicuous by a large white scar, as of
a burn, on his left hand. This scar attracted attention at
once by its size and ghastly white appearance.

Trill was careful to furnish himself with documentary
evidence of these particulars, signed by the doctor, and
sworn to in the presence of the chief magistrate of the dis-
trict, and feeling satisfied now that the claimant was an
impostor he returned to London and made known his dis-
coveries. He was then instructed to find out who the
claimant was.

It will be remembered that when Major M*Niven felt
his end approaching he had told his lawyers to draw up his
will, as he wished to leave everything to his only son if
living. As a means to the identification of that son, he was
described as having a very large white scar on the back of
the left hand, the result of his hand coming in contact with
a brazier of burning charcoal when he was a little fellow.
He was further described as having blue eyes, light brown

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 197

hair^ a rather prominent nose, and peculiarly small cars for
a boy. These particulars tallied in every detail with those
supplied by the Benares doctor, who said he had been much
struck by the smallness of the young man's ears and the
rather prominent nose. The prominent nose, it appeared,
ran in the M*Niven femily.

There could now be no shadow of doubt that the young
man who died in Benares and was buried in the name of
MoUoy was Major M^Niven's son, and in order to make the
case complete against the claimant it was important to
prove who he was. Instead of being blue-eyed and fair, he
had brown eyes and dark brown hair, and he spoke with a pro-
nounced Scottish accent, which would hardly have been
possible if he were the person he represented himself to be.
Whoever he might be, however, it W2S evident that he
knew a great deal about the Major, and was in collusion
with Mrs. M*Niven, who had aided and abetted him in the
fraud. In order to get at the truth, if possible, Vincent
Trill contrived to get into the claimant's company without
arousing his suspicion or allowing him to know who he was.
At this time the claimant was living in good style at a first-
class hotel, for on the strength of his prospects he had
experienced no difficulty whatever in raising money.

It has been stated in the course of these records that
Trill had the peculiar feculty of almost reading a person'^
mind. That is to say, he drew certain deductions from
expression, looks, mode of answering questions, and other
details, and in a general way these deductions were right.
Ht had made a life-long study of facial play and expression,
and this, coupled with a peculiar adroitness he had in framing
questions — an adroitness that would have made the fortune
of a barrister called upon to do much cross-examination — he
was frequently enabled to determine with startling accuracy
if his suspicions of the person he was probing were justified
or not. In this instance he confirmed his view that the
claimant was an impostor, but he did more than that, for he
managed to elicit from him — of course the information was
given inadvertently — that he was well acquainted with

198 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Edinburgh, and knew a good deal of Major M'Niven's doings
during the time the Major was residing at Queensferry.

After this instructive interview Trill went to Queens-
ferry with the intention of learning something about the
people who had made up the Major's household. Ferguson,
the gardener, was dead, but his widow still lived, though,
owing to terrible sufiering from rheumatism, she was not
only a helpless cripple, but somewhat impaired in intellect.
When she was questioned about her son, James Ferguson,
who served the Major in the capacity of body-servant,
she became deeply aiFected and wept bitterly, saying that
he had proved an ungrateful son, and had gone away, leaving
no trace behind of his whereabouts. Trill was enabled
to secure a photograph of the lost son, which, on closely
comparing it with the claimant to the M^Niven property,
proved to be his likeness, though he had most ingeniously
succeeded in so altering his appearance that it was only by
a close comparison that the claimant could be identified as
the original of the portrait.

Although the evidence up to this point was conclusive
— ^and there was no room to doubt that the claimant and
James Ferguson were one — it was not considered advisable
at that moment to let him know how the net had been
woven about him, but his lawyers were given to understand
that the most strenuous resistance would be oiFered to their
client's claim. It was clear that James Ferguson was
working in collusion with the erring Mrs. M^Niven, who
lived in Cashmere, and it was no less clear that he had visited
her, and during that visit she had no doubt supplied him
with a great deal of necessary information with a view to his
substantiating his claim. Under these circumstances it was
deemed justifiable to examine Ferguson's luggage for
letters or documents calculated to throw light upon the
conspiracy. The fact of his staying at an hotel rendered
this comparatively easy, without the claimant knowing any-
thing about it. Of course the landlord of the hotel was taken
into confidence, and any objection he might have been dis-
posed to make was at once overcome by the production of a

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 199

magistrate's order, which had been obtained on the strength
of various affidavits and sworn infannstUan^ which indicated
that a base fraud had been^and was still being, perpetrated with
a view to depriving the lawful owner of a large amount of
property. A time (or the examination was chosen when it
was known that the claimant was absent. On the strength
of his ^expectations' he had experienced no difficultjr
whatever in raising money, for greedy people abound, and
are eager to lend money at exorbitant interest to people
who have a £iir prospect of succeeding to property. The
claimant had managed to obtain from one firm of money-
lenders alone the sum of five hundred pounds, for which he had
given a bill at three months for one thousand pounds, the bill
to be renewed at the end of each quarter, for another three
months, up to a year. Being thus well supplied with funds,
the young man was thoroughly enjoying himself after the
manner of his kind, and on the day when certain representa-
tives of the majesty of the law were so particularly interested
in examining his trunks, he was enjoying himself at some
races, having driven out of town in a break accompanied by
a few cronies of the ' Rowdy Dowdy Boys ' class ; and as he
had no idea of what had been done, and was still being done,
by those who were seeking for truth in the matter, his
pleasures were not clouded by any shadow of coming events.
The search was far more successful than anyone had
dared to hope. In one of his boxes there was found a
mahogany writing-case, and when this had been duly opened
and its contents subjected to an examination, the examiners
were very amply rewarded for their trouble, for not only was
it made abundantly clear that the young gentleman who
represented himself as the son of the late Major M^Niven,
and consequently his heir-at-law, was not Major M^Niven's
son at all, but was none other than Jamie Ferguson, son of
old Ferguson, who had been gardener to the Major. Jamie,
it will be remembered, was the Major's body-servant, and
had to wait upon him hand and foot. Jamie was an obser-
vant, fiir-seeing youth, and during the period of his service
he learnt and saw a great deal, and must have become very

200 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

intimately acquainted with the Major's affitirs. It appeared
that Major M^Niven, being a precise and methodical man,
had recorded in writing the events of his career, and had
given copious details of his wife's elopement and of her
infamy in depriving him of his only son. Some time after
this he had made an entry to the effect that she was still
with the man she had gone off" with, and that they passed
under the name of Molloy. These and many other things
did Jamie Ferguson learn, and, being an ambitious young
gentleman, he was desirous of reaching a higher social level
than that of a gentleman's lackey. At the same time, as
was made obvious, he was not very particular about the
means he adopted to reach that level, so long as they didn't
include hard work, to which he seemed to have a particular
objection. Major M^Niven, who was very kind to him,
had from time to time presented him with various sums of
money, totalling up, in the aggregate, to a considerable
amount. This money Jamie had carefiiUy treasured, and
after his master's death he seems to have conceived the bold
and daring idea of proceeding to India, and trying to find the
Major's widow, who chose to be known as Mrs. Molloy.
Jamie's first intention — as gathered from various memoranda
of his own making — was, if he should succeed in finding the
heir, to endeavour to make the information he could give
him profitable to himself. Indeed, reading between the
lines of his journal — if it could be called such — it is by no
means doing him a wrong to suppose that if he had found
young M^N iven alive he would not have hesitated to put
him effectually out of the way, if favourable opportunity
occurred.

After much searching, it was made manifest that he was
successful in his quest so far as Mrs. M^Niven, alias Molloy,
was concerned. And having found her and come to the
knowledge that the true heir had departed to a better world,
it occurred to his ingenious mind to personate him. Such a
woman as Mrs. M^Niven was not likely to have any scruples
ii^lending her aid, and the prospect of reaping a rich reward
herself still ftirther stimulated her to energy.

THE CASE OF MAJOR M^NIVEN 201

All this was proved by letters that had passed between
her and the impostor, and by copious entries and remarks of
his own. In keeping this documentary evidence he only
followed the traditional stupidity of the criminally inclined,
who would seem to imagine that they can conceal their evil
intentions from the eye of heaven itself.

Two days after this damning evidence of Jamie Ferguson's
guilt was brought to light, he was arrested under a warrant,
which amongst other things went on to state that —
* Whereas the said James Ferguson, fraudulently and with
evil intent, had falsely and maliciously represented himself to
be the son and heir of the late Major M^Niven, with a view
to acquiring certain properties and estates to which he had
no legitimate or lawful claim. And whereas such represen-
tations of the said James Ferguson were wicked and evil, and
contrary to the laws made and done for the well-governing of
her Majesty's realm, the said James Ferguson is hereby
ordered to be arrested, and to show cause why he should
not be tried on a charge of fraud and conspiracy,' &c., &c.

It is not necessary to repeat the details of the trial,
which those who are curious may learn for themselves by
consulting the newspapers of the day ; but after an in-
quiry spreading over many days Jamie Ferguson was found
guilty on all the counts, and as the offence was considered a
very serious one, he was sentenced to twenty years' penal
servitude. The attempt that was made to include Mrs.
M^Niven and her paramour in the indictment failed on a
technical point of law, and they escaped.

202 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

XIV
AT DEADLY ENMITY

Chapter I

UNPLEASANT NEWS

A BALD-HEADEDy florid-faced, patrician-looking gentleman,
on the wrong side of sixty, and with certain indications in his
portly figure and his ruby complexion that he was a bon
viveur^ sat at a well-appointed breakfast table in an equally
well-appointed and even richly furnished room of almost
noble proportions. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth, its
ruddy light being reflected in the highly-polished fender and
fire-irons. A few well-executed oil paintings of sporting
subjects hung on the richly papered walls, and the two long
windows by which the room was lighted were artistically
and gracefully draped with costly velvet curtains. The
view from these windows was over a lawn and extensive
garden that dipped towards a valley ; in the view a very
wide panorama was embraced of rolling coimtry and wood-
land height. But far away on the right, almost on the sky
line, was a forest of tall chimneys of a great manufacturing
town, and the volume of dense smoke that hung over this
town and descended like a dun canopy into the valley where
the river flowed was a foul blot on what was otherwise a
perfect landscape. It was winter now, and everything was
very dreary. The atmosphere was charged with a Seepy
mist, and the bare trees shivered in the pitiless icy wind
that moaned over the land.

On the right-hand side of the gentleman who sat at the

AT DEADLY ENMITY 203

bneakfast table was the contents of the morning mail bag.
Some of the letters were still unopened, others had been
hastily scanned and tossed heedlessly on one side ; but one
he still held in his hand, and it was obvious from his
expression that its contents had disquieted, annoyed, in fact
highly irritated him ; and his gold-rimmed glasses could not
conceal nor even soften the angry, almost fierce, light in his
grey eyes, which, for a man of his age and temperament,
were exceptionally clear and bright.

Presently the massive door which communicated with
the passage opened, and a lady of medium height presented
herself. She had a severe cast of countenance ; was attired
with almost Quaker-like plainness, and carried with her the
outward and visible signs of a rigid adherence to spinster-
hood. Adown the sides of her face, which was oval,
colourless, and wrinkled, and rendered more unpleasant by a
fixed, soured, and cynical expression, fell stiff ringlets of
iron-grey hair. Her upper lip was faintly shaded by a
downy growth of hair, and a hard, cold light gleamed from
her unsympathetic steel-blue eyes. She was somewhat bony
of frame, the angularities of which were emphasised by a
tightly-fitting but not altogether inartistically cut gown.
She wore mittens, and was conspicuous by the absence of
anything in the shape of personal adornment. Although
the gentleman at the table was plump and ruddy of face,
whereas the lady was bony and colourless, it was impossible
not to be struck by the strong family likeness that pro-
claimed them relations.

* I suppose, Peter,* she said, in a harsh, dry voice, * you
are going to town this morning ? Shall I order the gig to
be got ready ? *

* I don*t know,* he snapped irritably. * Yes — no. Ton
my word I scarcely know what I shall do. The post has
brought me damned unpleasant news. Here, read that.'

As he spoke he tossed the letter to her, rose abruptly
from his seat, and placed himself with his back to the fire,
his fat hands twisting nervously under his coat tails, and his
right foot beating a tattoo on the hearthrug.

I

204 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

The lady took up the letter from the table, sank into a
chair, and, raising her long-handled gold glasses to her eyes,
read what follows:

* RuMBOLD, CaAWFORD & Co., Solicitors,

Crane Court* London : December lo, 1817.
■To Peter Pinkley, Esq.,

The Manor, Winchstone-on-the-Hilli
Near Ribchester.

* Dear Sir, — Yourself v.* Richard Stonor and others.
It is our duty to inform you that this matter has at last been
decided by Lord Chief Justice Scovell, and we regret to
say it has been decided against you, with costs, which we are
afraid will be very heavy. Although we are entitled to appeal
against this decision, and to carry the matter into the House
of Lords, we cannot recommend such a course, as we are
convinced that Lord Chief Justice Scovell's decision will be
upheld, while the expense to yourself would be ruinous.
We therefore venture to suggest that in your own interest
you should abide by the verdict. If you decide to appeal,
however, notice of such appeal must be lodged within four
days from your receipt of this letter. We therefore await
your instructions, and beg you to believe. Dear Sir, that we
are always your devoted and obedient servants,

* RuMBOLD, Crawford & Co.*

* Well, what do you think of that ? * asked Peter Pinkley
sharply between his set teeth, as Miss Jane Pinkley — ^his
sister — let her mittened hands, still grasping the letter, fall
into her lap, and stared at him with a bewildered, dumb-
foundered expression on her ashen &ce.

^ I think it is in&mous,' murmured the lady, with a quick
rising and falling of her bony bosom as she caught her breath
jerkily like one who sobs.

* infamous,' echoed Peter with a bitter laugh. ^In-
famous is not the word. It's damnable, and Lord Chief
Justice Scovell ought to be shot. I don't know what the
country is coming to when such men are placed upon the
bench to administer so-called justice. I say it's shameful ;

AT DEADLY ENMITY 205

it's downright robbery, and Scovell, like all his brother

1'udges, is a biassed rascal. I won't stand it. I will appeal.
'11 carry the case to the House of Lords *

* Don't/ interrupted his sister with a peculiar decisiveness
of manner. * What interest have Rumbold, Crawford & Co.
in advising you not to appeal if they thought there was the
ghost of a chance of getting Lord Chief Justice Scovell's
decision set aside ? If they won the case they would make
a handsome thing out of it, but if they lost you would be
ruined, and they would get nothing.'

* But, good God, woman, I'm utterly, absolutely ruined
as it is. The business, as you know, has been tottering to
its fall for a long time. This last blow will crush it. I tell
you, we are ruined, ruined, ruined ! ' he repeated the word in
a high crescendo, and flung himself up and down the room in
a state of blustering excitement.

Miss Pinkley was greatly distressed, and a tear or two
trickled down her cheeks and dropped on to her mittened
hands ; and opening the little silver-rimmed satchel suspended
from her waist, she drew forth her handkerchief and scent-
bottle, and, wiping her face with the one, she sniffed vigorously
at the other.

*There, don't excite yourself,' roared Peter with ludicrous
inconsistency ; * keep cool, as I do. We must think the
matter over. I'll sleep on it 5 but I tell you again, we are
ruined.*

^ No ? I hope it's not as bad as that.'

* There you are. Woman-like, of course, you contradict
for contradiction's sake. I tell you there is nothing for it
but bankruptcy and the workhouse, and we shall have to
swallow down our pride and pedigree as best we can.'

Miss Pinkley was genuinely af!ected and shed copious
tears, and Mr. Pinkley, who, far from being unsympathetic,
was much affected himself, patted her on the back and said:

* There, there, it's no use fretting and fuming over it.
We must stare the situation in the face, and see if there is
any way out of our difficulties. Go and tell Ryan to put
the bay mare into the gig, and to drive me to the office.'

2o6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Miss Pinkley mopped up her tears; and glancing at
herself in the mantel glass she gave a twist to her side curls
and with a long-drawn sigh she hurried from the room.

When she had gone her brother allowed his feelings to
find full vent, and he paced up and down with the restlessness
of an uncontrollable agitation ; one moment he thrust his
hands deep into his breeches pockets, the next played
nervously with the massive seals that dangled from his tob^
and anon he tugged at his scant grey hairs ; and finally he
sank into a huge chair, bit his finger nails, nursed his chin
in his palms, frowned, sucked in his nether lip, stared at the
fire, drummed with his feet, after the manner of a man
through whose mind varying emotions were passing, until
at last having arrived at a point of decision he jumped up,
thrust the letter containing the disturbing intelligence into
his pocket, locked up the others in an escritoire, and then
went out.

In the hall his sister was waiting for him. She wound a
mufiler round his throat, helped him on with his heavy coat,
handed him his hat and gloves, and pressed her thin lips to
his cheek, and, putting a mittened hand on each of his
shoulders, said sympathetically :

* Don't be long away, reter, and be sure you bring
Frank home with you. I shall be miserable until you come
back.'

Mr. Peter Pinkley returned his sister's embrace, then
descended the steps under the great portico. A smart gig,
to which a handsome bay mare was harnessed, was waiting,
and Ryan, the groom, was holding the horse's head. Mr.
Pinkley finished drawing on his gloves, running his eye the
while with the air of a connoisseur over the clean-cut limbs
of the steed, and, having patted her on the neck, a little
attention she joyfully acknowledged, he mounted the vehicle
and gathered up the reins, and when Ryan had taken his
seat beside him, he waved a final adieu to his sister, and
then drove off in the direction of the canopy of smoke that
was being belched forth from the huge chimneys on the
horizon.

AT DEADLY ENMITY 207

Chapter II

TBLLS HOW THE GREAT ENMITY BEGAN

The Pinkleys and the Stonors were branches of the well-
known and somewhat renowned Border family of the
Maitlands. It will be remembered that there was a
Maitland who greatly distinguished himself as a moss-trooper
and cattle lifter. For a long time he was the terror of the
Border^ and seemed to bear a charmed life, for many fruitless
attempts were made to capture or kill him. But he
reached a green old age and came to an inglorious end.
He had been carousing with some kindred spirits one winter
night, and while endeavouring to reach his home he missed
his way, and riding into the River Eden was drowned.

Later there was a Judge Cope Maitland, who shed
lustre on the judicial bench, and died fiill of years and
honour ; and that very distinguished and illustrious soldier,
Major-General Maitland, who figured conspicuously in
many of our Indian wars. At the beginning of the
eighteenth century a Miss Maitland was given in marriage
to William Pinkley, eldest son of Squire Pinkley of Pinkley
Hall^ near Brough, in Westmoreland. A year later her
youngest sister. Miss Mary Maitland, married Daniel
Stonor, whose people were extensive landowners in the
northern country. From these two branches there was a
prolific increase, and a strange intermingling of prosperity
and vicissitude. There were provident members and profli-
gates, and the family fortunes went through many changes.
Nevertheless, the families were united in no ordinary degree.

It became quite a proverb in the North, when wishing
to indicate the stability of anything, to say it was as firm as
the Pinkleys' and the Stonors clannishness.

It was about the middle of the eighteenth century that
the manufacturing firm of Pinkley, Adams & Roe was
founded at Ribchester, noted for its smoke, its collieries, and
its commercial enterprise. For a long time the firm

2o8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

flourished amazingly, until at last competition and depression
in trade made themselves felt, and the prosperity of the firm
seemed to be passing away.

At the period at which this story begins, although the
name of the old firm was continued, the business was
entirely in the hands of Mr. Peter Pinkley and his son,
Frank. Mr. Pinkley was a widower. His wife had been
dead a good many vears, having borne him two sons, the
eldest of whom diea young. At the time of his marriage
Mr. Pinkley had purchased the manor estate at Winchstone-
on-the-Hill, about six miles from Ribchester. At that
time it was an extensive property, but hard times had
compelled him to part with the greater portion of it, until
only the old mansion itself and a few acres of timber land
remained to him.

Frank Pinkley was a handsome young man of about
seven-and-twenty. He practically managed his father's
business, and was regarded as a long-headed, shrewd
business man ; keen at driving bargains, and somewhat
unscrupulous. He had been wild and reckless, and in his
youth was sent to India to some relatives ; but after a few
years returned home with rather a bad record. It was said
that he was fond of gaming, that he was idle, that he loved
the wine cup, and was too much given to the society of
ladies. However, when his father took him into the
business he seemed to settle down, and putting his shoulder
to the wheel he appeared to be determined to retrieve the
fortunes of the firm.

While the Pinkleys had thus devoted themselves to
trade and commercial pursuits, the other branch of the
family — the Stonors — adhered to the professions, and distin-
guished themselves in many ways. But between them
there had never been any difference. They were proud of
their common ancestry, and the Stonors would have been
quick to defend the honour of the Pinkleys, and the
Pinkleys would have been just as quick to defend the
honour of the Stonors.

But the rift in the lute came at last. It was due, as is

AT DEADLY ENMITY 209

so often the case in femilies, to some dispute about property.
Gradually the rift widened as more important interests
became involved, until it resulted in a great cleavage, and
all friendly intercourse between the Stonors and the Pinkleys
came to an end, to the amazement and astonishment of every-
one who knew them.

At this time Frank Pinkley was paying his addresses to
his cousin, a Miss Gertrude Stonor, second daughter of Mr.
Richard Braithwaite Stonor, of the Hall, Headsnook, near
Carlisle. Richard Stonor was a man of considerable impor-
tance in the district, being a landowner and a justice of the
peace. He had run rather a wild career, and the breath of
scandal had not left his reputation altogether undimmed.
He, too, was a widower, although he had been married
twice, and had a pretty numerous family. His eldest son
had been in the army, but had thrown up his commission
owing — so rumour ran — to certain gambling transactions,
he being an inveterate gambler ; indeed, it seemed to be a
vice of both branches of the femily. Since leaving the
service he had done nothing, dividing his time between
Headsnook and London, but spending much more of it in
London than at Headsnook.

Between Mr. Peter Pinkley and Mr. Richard Braithwaite
Stonor unpleasant differences arose about money matters.
Pinkley borrowed large sums of money from Stonor, and at
last they got at loggerheads over a disputed account of a
thousand pounds which Stonor averred Pinkley owed him,
but which Pinkley stoutly denied. This was the beginning
of the rift ; the ill-feeling engendered spread from one to
another until it developed into a bitter feud. Two or three
duels had been fought with serious results ; there had been
litigation and counter-litigation, and enmity and hatred
displayed themselves on every possible occasion.

Of course the engagement between Frank Pinkley and
Gertrude Stonor was broken o£F, and in order to show how
little she was afifected by this disappointment, the young
lady became the wife of Lieutenant Hunter of the
Coldstream Guards six months later, and was known to

It

i

aio RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

have exprened amazement that she could ever have seen
anything in her cousin to admire.

There is no doubt that Mr. Peter Pinkley was the greatest
sufierer by the family rupture. For a long time things had
been going wrong with him, and a run of bad business
years had had a somewhat disastrous efiect upon his ex-
chequer. The Pinkleys certainly did not represent the
money side of the fiimily. The Stonors somehow or
another had managed to lay their hands upon the principal
portions of the family estates, and these they succeeded in
keeping amongst them. But a very considerable property
had been in dispute for a long time between Peter Pinkley
and Richard Stonor. A somewhat eccentric ancestor, a
certain Paul Maitland, who had been dead sixty years, never
married, owing, as it was said, to a disappointment in his
youth ; but as he advanced in years he found himself
almost entirely deserted, notwithstanding his wealth ; for
he was miserly, of an evil temper, drank a good deal, and was
generally objectionable.

But at last he found a young woman — one Betty Stowell
—who was willing to attend to him and look after his house.
Betty was exceedingly good-looking, but exceedingly igno-
rant. She was the daughter of a farmer, and could milk,
bake, brew, concoct wonderfiil herbal remedies, and was
capable of making herself singularly useful about a house ;
but she had never had a day's schooling in her life. For
years she fulfilled the part of a wife to old Paul Maitland,
putting up with all his foibles and objectionable charac-
teristics until he died.

Of course she had not sacrificed herself in this way
without ulterior motives. She had an eye on his property,
and he always gave her to understand that she should have
everything. But by his will he directed that she should
continue to occupy his house as long as she lived, and enjoy
the income derived from Jiis property of every kind, though not
a tree, net ^ vard of land, not a brick, not a stick of fiiriuture
could she sell or bestow ; and even the limited privileges
accorded her were to cease if she marded. At her death

^

^

AT DEADLY ENMITY 211

the property was to pass to his nearest relatives in the male
line.

Betty accepted her fate, and as the income was large and
constantly increasing as land became more valuable, she
managed to enjoy herself, and to live to a green old age,
when she paid the debt of nature.

Then Peter Pinkley put in a claim to the property, and
Richard Braithwaite Stonor counter-claimed, and there was
pretty work for the lawyers. The legal gentlemen rubbed
their hands with elee, for they knew that, whoever went
without, they would feather their nests well.

For years the litigation went on. Fiercer and fiercer
grew the feeling of hatred between the two families. The
Stonors in a body opposed themselves to the Pinkleys, and
the worst of blood was engendered. All over the country
side the split in the family relations was known as ^ The
Great Cleavage,' and it was certain that if a Pinkley met a
Stonor there would be warm work.

It need scarcely be said that the law costs in this great
case were very heavy, and they proved a tremendous strain on
Pinkley's slender resources. Of course, the whole business
could have been settled in a few weeks if the lawyers had
chosen. It was a harvest to them, and those who were not
engaged in it envied those who were. It is shameful that
lawyers should have it in their power to impoverish estates
and ruin clients in the way they do ; but as lawyers make
the laws for themselves it will ever be so.

At last one of the parties to the suit was summoned to a
higher tribunal than any on earth. That was Mr. Richard
Braithwaite Stonor, who died suddenly from an attack of
apoplexy after a rather warm night with a select party of
fi'iends, who mixed their liquor freely and gambled till day-
break, when they all had to be put to bed.

^ Judge' Stonor, as he was commonly called in the
district, although he was nothing more than a J.P., was
seized with a fit sdon after, and though he was freely bled by
t^6 Surgeons, whd were hastily summoned fr6m Carlisle, it
was of no avaiL He never ralliied, but died four hours after

p2

212 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

the seizure without having recovered consciousness or had
the benefit of dergv.

When Mr. Pinldey heard of the death of his kinsman he
did not disguise the fact that he felt no concern. Indeed, to
be strictlv truthful, he was really glad, thinking that some-
how it might advantage his cause. But, of course, the eldest
son at once stepped into the breach thus created ; and
his name was substituted for his father's in the suit.
Needless to say, this change was made an excuse by the
lawyers for still further prolonging the suit, and so it went
on dragging its weary length, and Peter Pinkley w^ buoyed
up always with the hope that he would at length come out
triumphant, until this hope was finally destroyed by that
crushing letter fi'om Rumbold, Crawford & Co., of Crane
Court, London. Although these gentlemen knew perfectly
well that Lord Chief Justice Scovdl's decision could not he
upset, as it was based upon perfectly sound law as law goes,
they would have been ddighted to have taken the matter to
the House of Lords, as they would have still gone on piling
on fees ; but they were aware that their client, Pinkley,
was in a very shaky condition financially, and was already
deeply in their debt, and the chances were they would never
get paid a penny.

Miss Jane Pinkley was Peter's sister. She shared his
house with him — that is, she acted as his housekeeper, looked
after him and his son, kept the servants in order, and watched
over all the household afiairs generally. She was somewhat
severdy puritanical in her views, and preached a great deal
to her brother and her nephew about their — ^as she described
it — lack of due reverence.

As a matter of fact, both father and son were worldly
men, and concerned themselves infinitely more about things
mundane than things spiritual. Peter was in the habit of
saying, to his sister's intense horror, that it took him all his
time to look after his affiiirs in this world, withourwasting
it over a world he knew nothing at all about. Neverthdess,
Jane Pinklejr was strongly attached to her brother, and dis-
played great ^Section for her nefphew.

AT DEADLY ENMITY 213

Chapter III

FRANK PINKLSY MAKES A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT

When Mr. Pinkley reached his office he was in anything
but a pleasant humour ; when he wasn't in a pleasant
humour his language was not particularly choice, and it
fared ill with anyone who was unfortunate enough to get in
his way. On this particular morning he made things rather
unpleasant all round. He scolded the clerks and book-
keepers, and bullied the workmen, and when at last his son
ventured to remonstrate with him when they were together
in the private room, the old man flung the lawyers' letter
at the young man's head, saying bitterly :

^ Read that and you'll no longer wonder at my bad temper.
What the devil are we going to do now ? We are ruined,
absolutely ruined, and I see nothing before me but pauperism.'

He spoke very bitterly, and gnawed the feathers from a
quill pen with a savage energy.

Frank stooped, picked up the letter, and as he perused it
his face underwent a great change, indicating the keenness
of his emotions.

Young Pinkley's appearance was not entirely preposses-
sing to the critical eye. He was by no means bad-looking —
indeed, by some he was considered handsome — ^and was well
set up, with broad shoulders, and a mass of light brown curly
hair. But his &ce bore incipient signs of dissipation ; there
was a peculiar expression in his dark blue eyes, which never
looked at one straight, while the somewhat squarely cut jaw
was suggestive of a nature that was at least callous, if not
cruel. He was generally regarded as a secretive man, firm
in character, decisive, determined, unforgiving when he
thought he had been wronged, and most certainly selfish ;
but withal capable of making himself extremely pleasant, if
not absolutely fascinating.

He had been well educated, had travelled a good deal
more than generally fell to the lot of most young men of his

ai4 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

day, and was skilful alike with the sword and the pistol,
consequently, being hot-blooded and quick of temper, it was
not considered a wise thing to provoke him unless the
provoker was quite prepared to defend himself with vigour
and skill.

This, in rough outline, delineates young Frank Pinkley's
character ; but, of course, there were deeper depths, and
varying gradations ; and no doubt he was sufficiently plastic
to be moulded and influenced by his environment whether
it was for good or ill. So &r his environment had not been
of a nature to improve him.

For several moments after he had read the letter he stood
irresolute, with something like an expression of despair on
his iace, from which the colour had fled.

* Yes. That is bad news,' he remarked at last, slowly,
as he bit his lip and stared through the window, which only
commanded a walled-in yard that was filled up with lumber
in the shape of old boxes and an assortment of rubbish.

^Bad news,' echoed the old man, with an unpleasant
grin. ^ I should think it was. How are we going to avoid
bankruptcy now ? *

Frank did not answer for some moments. He was still
pondering. His mind was busy at work, rapidly passing
in view various things, and trying to give shape and defini-
tion to different schemes that presented themselves suddenly
like phantoms, and, like phantoms, disappeared. But at last
he had laid hold of something, and turning to his father
said :

* Of course Dick Stonor gets the property ? *

* Of course he does.*

* Then I'll have it from him before he is three months
older.'

* What do you mean ? * asked the old man, looking up
in surprise, and staring at his son with wide-opened eyes.

* Don't ask me for explanations now. I've none to give.
Things will shape themselves. Have patience, and believe
me, I will do what I say I will do.'

^ But how on earth do you hope to get in three months

AT DEADLY ENMITY 215

what we have failed to get after years of trying .? It is
certain you cannot get it legitimately, and to bring your-
self within the grasp of the law would be madness/

* I will get it legitimately/ answered the son sternly and
decisively, and hts whole face was marked with a fixed
determination.

The old man knew too much of his son to ply him
with questions which would never have been answered ;
but it was clear he was sceptical, for he shrugged his
shoulders contemptuously and said with a ring of mocking
irony in his tone :

^ I hope you will succeed. For my own part I shall go
home and prepare for the crash. You are young and may
do something ; but I and your aunt are old, and have
nothing to look forward to but poverty and a parish grave.'

'It is time enough to talk about the crash when it
comes,' said Frank. * It hasn't come yet, and won't come.'

The old man rose up with a bitter sneer playing about
his white lips, and he remarked :

^ It is a good thing to be sanguine, but we are absolutely
and hopelessly insolvent, and on our side of the family there
isn't an individual to whom we can look for the slightest
assistance. These are hard, cruel facts which you know
just as well as I do. Therefore, unless you are capable of
performing miracles, the ruin cannot be averted.'

*I shall perform no miracle,' returned the son drily,

* but I intend to have the property. Do you hear ? I intend
to have it ! '

^ I don't like this mystification,' snarled the old man.

* Why don't you speak out and say what you have in your
mind ? '

^Look here, dad,' said the son with great resolution,
' I've no desire to mystify you, but I am going to keep my
thoughts to myself at present ; so the least said the soonest
mended ! I like to be judged by my acts and deeds, not
by words/

Mr. Pinkley knew his son's disposition too well to waste
further time in argument, and though he was on tenter-

#••

2i6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

hooks he restrained himself. To him the prospect seemed

floomy enough, and he could not take any sanguine view,
[e had always been an extravagant man, with the tastes of
a Sybarite, and he had gratified those tastes to the fullest
extent. He was fond of good things, good living, and good
company. He was lavish in his hospitality — though his
hospitality was prompted rather by vanity and a love of
display than by generous impulses.

To such a man the idea of poverty and all the disgrace
inseparable from bankruptcy were terrible to contemplate,
and as he left his ofSce on that bitter winter afternoon he
felt crushed and broken, for it was impossible to disguise
the fact that he was hopelessly insolvent. Almost up to
the last he believed that the judgment in the suit would
have been given in his favour, and the sudden announce-
ment to the contrary had come upon him like a thunderclap
from a clear sky.

That evening the Manor House was anything but a
cheerful place. Although he did not deprive himself of
any of his luxuries, and while he dined sumptuously, Mr.
Pinkley saw the skeleton at the feast, and he was haunted
by the most gloomy forebodings. Young Pinkley was
silent and reserved, and gave no outward sign of what was
passing in his mind. He dined well, did full justice to the
meal, and shared a bottle of port with his father afterwards.

But the old man was like ^ a bear with a sore head,' as
the saying is ; he grumbled and growled at this and that,
and rated Fortune, which he declared was a jade and had
played him false.

Poor Miss Pinkley had rather a bad time of it. She
endeavoured to prevail over the men folk by allusions of a
spiritual nature, and insisted that the trials and troubles of
life were sent for a good purpose, and that the wind was
tempered to the shorn lamb. This provoked her brother
into hot and hasty retort ; he demanded of his sister angrily
if she had never witnessed the shorn lambs, shivering as if
with ague, in the bitter east winds of March and April ;
^nd he wound up witl^ denouncing all such maxiips as arrant

AT DEADLY ENMITY 217

bofih ; and when the lady showed an inclination to resent this
irreverence he flatly told her to betake herself to Jericho —
only he didn't say Jericho.

However, after the port wine had been disposed of, a
more genial atmosphere seemed to spread itself over the
household, and, some visitors dropping in, punch was brewed
and backgammon played.

December worked itself out with a display of every kind
of the most disagreeable weather, and the New Year came
in, bringing the responsibilities as regards engagements and
the balancing of accounts.

By parting with a small property he possessed in another
part of the country, Mr. Pinkley was enabled to keep the
wolves from rending him, but he was well aware that it was
only a temporary relief. During the weeks that had passed
since the receipt of the fatal letter, young Frank had never
once again reverted to the matter, and at last, provoked by
his reticence, his father sneeringly demanded to know when
he was going to give e£Fect to his boast that he would
acquire the property from Dick Stonor.

^ I shall be able to answer your question a little later
on,* replied Frank with irritating composure. *In the
meantime I am going off* to London.'

^ To London ! ' exclaimed his father.

* Yes, dad. Why express such surprise? I've been to
London before.*

* You have,' retorted his father, with a certain suppressed
fierceness that carried much meaning. ^Do you journey
now on behalf of the firm ? ' he asked sternly.

* No.'

* On what business go you then ? '

^ Business of great moment. Of that I may assure you,
and since I am no longer a child I may claim the capability
to take care of myself.'

For some years there had never been any confidences
between Mr. rinkley and his son outside of the business.
Frank kept his private afl&irs to himself, and resented any
attempt that was ipade to draw him out. To his aunt h^

ai8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

was always respectful^ even aflhctionate, but the fact could
not be disguised that he treated his ^ther with a levity
that, to say the least, was unbecoming. This was due in
part to his having been allowed to run wild at an early age,
and to having too much of his own way. And during his
travds the company he kept had not tended to improve
him. He was naturally wayward, perverse, and cynical,
and his father, somehow or another, had failed to arouse in
him that filial regard which a son should display.

The old gentleman was painfully aware of this deficiency
on the part of his son, and he knew furthermore that to
attempt to control him would have been about as useless as
attempting to control the winds or the sea waves.

^No doubt you can take care of yourself,' said Mr.
Pinkley bitterly, ^ but I, as your father, am surely worthy of
your confidence. Since you think otherwise, however, go
your own course ; but one question you surely cannot object
to answer.'

^ Certainly. I will answer any reasonable question, but
I object to be catechised.'

^ Tell me, then, is your journey to London in connection
with the property question ? '

* It is.'

^ And when may I look for your return ? '

^ I cannot even approximately fix a time. I may spend
a week, or two, or even three in the metropolis; but you
shall have news of me. I will send you letters.'

With this promise and scant information Mr. Pinkley
had to be satisfied, and the subject dropped ; and though he
could not for the life of him conceive how his son was going
to make good his words with reference to obtaining the
property from Dick Stonor, he was not without hope that
the journey to London would be productive of good result,
for he had faith in his son's cleverness and placed reliance
upon his judgment.

A few days later four men were amongst the passengers
by the mail coach from Carlisle to London. One of them
was Frank Pinkley. The other three were bis companions,

AT DEADLY ENMITY 219

and as they figure somewhat prominently in subsequent events
a few particulars concerning them are necessary.

Francis Aveling was about the same age as Frank
Pinkley. He had been in the army and had fought at
Waterloo with his father, who held a commission in the
Guards, arid fell during the ever memorable charge. Young
Aveling had been severely wounded in the left foot, and was
rendered permanently lame, consequently had to throw up
the profession of arms. Being without means, he had since
lived principally by his wits. He was a man of good address
and gentlemanly appearance, and was much given to
gambling, a vice which was very common among ail classes
of society. He and Frank Pinkley had been acquainted for
some years.

Arthur Newland Kemp was the second son of a well-
to-do Westmoreland farmer, and was about twenty-five. He
did not live at home, his father having disowned him owing
to his dissolute habits. He was an attractive young fellow,
but of a delicate constitution, and bearing in his &ce pre-
mature signs of incipient age.

The third companion was Patrick Mullan, an Irishman
by birth. He was forty or more, and of almost herculean
build. Nature had endowed him with a scowling expression
of countenance, dark piercing eyes, and close-cut black hair.
His appearance was somewhat repellant, and he presented a
striking contrast to the others. He was married, but
separated from his wife, who was still in the service of
Richard Stonor as dairymaid. Patrick had also been in
Stonor's employ as gamekeeper, but was discharged for
irregular conduct.

Such were the four men who had entered into a strange
conspiracy, and were journeying to London to carry out
their nefarious plans.

220 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Chapter IV

HEAVY STAKES

RicfifARD Jeffrey Stonor, who by the decision of Lord
Chief Justice Scovell became the owner of the Maitland
estates, was pleased to consider himself ^ a fashionable young
man.'

In the early years of the century this meant a good deal
more perhaps than it does now, and a gentleman of iashion
in those days was nothing if he wasn't a hard drinker, hard
swearer, hard rider, hard gamester, good fighter, and heartless ;
gallant ^ Dick ' Stonor was all these thihgs and much more,
for he had inordinate vanity, was arrogant, boastful, and
purse-proud, and could not bear to be overreached by
anybody or in any way.

Dick spent much of his time in London. That was
considered one of the things that a fashionable man should
do. Up to this time, although verging on thirty, Dick had
escaped matrimony, notwithstanding that various siren-like
arts and wiles had been used to try and draw him into the
web. But they had all failed. He was wont to say that
he preferred blessed singleness to humdrum matrimony,
which was all romance before marriage and all damnation
after. This was rough, but characteristic of Dick Stonor.

When in London Dick spent much of his time at the
house of Mrs. Nellie Gray, whose life story, so far as it
was known, was a romance. At one part of her career she
had been upon the stage ; she had basked in the smiles of
Royalty ; she had captivated old beaux until they laid their
fortunes at her feet, then she packed them off about their
business. Some went mad, some blew their brains out,
some repented them of their folly and sought consolation in
religion. Mrs. Nellie Gray bore the reputation of being the
prettiest and wickedest woman in London town. Women
hated her, men raved about her.

Pretty Nellie rented a large house in the fashionable

AT DEADLY ENMITY 221

neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. Here she held receptions,
and dicing and card playing were carried on often until the
night had passed and the day was well advanced.

To this house there came one February evening — it was
the second of February, to be precise — Mr. Dick Stonor. jHc
was admitted by a powdered flunkey, conducted up a flight of
noble stairs, heavily carpeted, by a natty maid servant, and
ushered into a magnificently furnished saloon by a page in
livery ; and when the massive velvet curtains that hung at
the portal had fallen into their place again as he passed and
the page withdrew, a lady rose from a luxurious divan,
and hurrying forward she flung her arms about his neck and
greeted him with effusive warmth, and in terms of endear-
ment such as * Dear old Dick,' * Darling boy,* * You
disgraceful dear old fellow.'

The lady was pretty Mistress Nellie Gray. She had the
face of an angel, the eyes of a serpent, the cunning of the
fox, the fescination of Circe, the grace of Juno, a form divine.
It was the only thing divine about Nellie. She was attired
in the daintiest of toilets, and her hair had been built up in
the most elaborate and becoming fashion, evidently the work
of an artist in his profession.

The room, which was very large, was divided almost in
the centre by elegant and massive curtains of maroon velvet,
and the whole place was decorated and furnished in costly
style. A cheerful fire of logs blazed on the capacious
hearthstone, and as Dick looked cold and miserable the lady
drew him into the warmth of the blaze, and, hanging on his
arm, and looking up into his face with a syrenic expres-
sion that would have tempted even good St. Anthony to his
fall, she cooed to him like a cushat dove, and demanded to
know wherefore he was so downcast and wretched looking.

*I have been burning the candle very much at both
ends,' he replied. ^ I lost heavily last night at Bailey's, and
their wine has given me a racking headache.' ^

^ Poor silly old donkey,' chirruped the lady, as she stroked
his face with her white velvety hands. ^ I will sooh put
you right. You shall be nursed up for a f«w dayii.'

2t% RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

* I intend to return home to-morrow,' he said irritably.

^ We will see, we will see,' answered Nellie winsomely ;
* but m wager a hundred guineas that in less than two hours
you will be as lively as a grasshopper. I have arranged for
a very quiet nieht ; to all but two or three specially
favoured visitors I am to be denied.'

^ I shall not play to-night, Nell,' he remarked surlily.

^ What I a man and afeared ? ' she cried with a merry
laugh. * Oh, fie!'

^ I am not afraid, but I tell you I was hit very hard last
night.'

^ And what of that ? You'll make up your losses to-
night. Surely a man of your substance is not going to
turn tail because he happens to lose once in a way. Now,
then, be a dear good boy and do as I bid you or I'll have
nothing more to say to you.'

There was something so extraordinarily fascinating in the
way she spoke, and the way she posed and moved, that Dick
Stonor would have required to have been made of much
sterner stuff had he been able to resist her. As it was, he
seized her and tried to draw her to him ; but with a pretty
little scream she put up her hands to keep him off, and
exclaimed :

^Mind, oh, mind my hair. Six mortal hours has
Monsieur Boileau devoted to it to-day, and I cannot afford
to have it disarranged.'

She put up her dainty mouth for him to kiss her, and he
pressed his lips to hers.

^ There,' she said with a musical laugh, ^ that's quite
enough. I'm not going to spoil you by too many luxuries.
Now sit down.'

She pushed him on to the divan, and he asked her to get
him some Madeira. She was about to touch a bell, when he
stopped her by saying :

^ Never mind the servants. I want you to give it to me
yourself.'

^ Well^ you have a good conceit of your own importanci,'
she smiled ; at. the same tim« she went to a magni^cently

AT DEADLY ENMITY 223

carved sideboard, on which stood decanters of wine, and
pouring some Madeira into a glass she placed the glass on to
a silver salver and handed it to him.

^ Don't you think I make a pretty waitress ? ' she asked.

* Prettv/ he cried, * you are a goddess. I drink to
you, Nell.

He tossed the wine ofF and smacked his lips.

* Ah, that's superb,' he said, * it puts new life into me.
Give me a tumblerful. I want a big draught.'

She filled a tumbler to the brim with the insidious liquor
and gave it to him. He drained it and put the tumbler down.

* Well,' he remarked, * if there's death in the cup it's a
devilish pleasant death.'

She sank down at his feet, and crossing her hands on
his knees, she looked at him meaningly with her serpent-
like eyes, and murmured :

* How about going home to-morrow f '

* Let to-morrow take care of itself — I live to-night,' he
cried.

Before she could make reply the striking of a bell warned
them that somebody was mounting the stairs. She sprang
up, patted him on the cheek, and seated herself in a chair at
a decorous distance ; and in a few moments the heavy
curtain screening the doorway was raised, and the page
ushered in Frank Pinkley, Francis Aveling, and Arthur
Newland Kemp.

Mrs. Gray hurried forward to greet them, and Dick
also rose. He did not know Aveling and Kemp, but
recognising Pinkley he started back, grew very red in the
face, and looking hard at Nellie asked :

* How long have you known this gentleman ? '

* Mercy on us ! ' cried Nellie in sweet surprise, * are you
two gentlemen acquainted ? '

^ Wft are,' said Dick sententiously and grufHy.

Frank took a step or two forward and held out his
hand. ^ This is an unexpected pleasure,' he remarked.

The proftred hand wai not taken, and, turning to his
hostess, he added by way 6f explanati6n :

224 RECORDS I OF^ VINCENT TRILL

* Mr. Stonor is a relative of mine. We represent two
difierent branches of the family, and, unhappily, there have
been family differences. But as far as I am concerned I
am willing to let bygones be bygones. I don't know
exactly why we should be enemies.'

^Well said, well said,' exclaimed Nellie, clapping her
little palms together. ^ Now, then, shake hands, both of
you,' and she stamped her elegantly slippered foot to give
emphasis to her command.

Once more Pinkley stretched forth his hand, but Stonor
still declined to take it.

^ It's no use acting the fool,' he replied grumpily. ^ I'm
not going to quarrel with Mr. Pinkley, but at the same
time I don't feel sufficiently friendly towards him to shake
hands. However, I presume we are not here to discuss
our family affiiirs. Please let the subject drop, and as you
are no doubt anxious. Mistress Gray, to entertain your
guests, I will take my departure.'

'You will do nothing of the kind,' said Nellie with
great decisiveness, and giving him a push he sank down in
a heap on the cushions of the divan.

* There,' she added, with a tinkling little laugh, ' I'm
mistress here, and you'll do as I tell you.'

Then she ordered the page to put wine and glasses on
the table, and very soon the gentlemen were pledging the
lady in bumpers, and Stonor, who had been so surly but a
short time before, grew very lively, and hummed snatches
of music from the last opera.

Nellie had thrown the spell of her witchery over him,
and the utter recklessness of his nature came out. He even
displayed a benevolent disposition towards his kinsman, and
declared that Nellie was the only woman in all the world
that was worth a groat ; whereupon Nellie chided him with
being a base deceiver and a wily flatterer, and, vowing that
things were ' a bit slow,' she suggested that they should try
their luck at cards by way of enlivening the proceedings.

At first Dick prot^ted ; said that he did not intend to
play; repeated his statement that he had betn 'hard hit'

AT DEADLY ENMITY 125

the previous night, and that he did not feel in form. But
gentle Nellie Gray had soon overcome his objections, and
die party retired to the card-room, the other side of the
maroon curtain.

Here was a long green baize table overhung by a magni-
ficent cut glass chandelier, while a number of sporting
etchings adorned the walls. The four men sat down to
whist, Nellie standing out. The game was guinea points.
Dick was a good whist player, and he had Aveling for a
partner, who was also good. But the other side were good
also, so they were evenly balanced.

The first rubber fell to Dick's side, the second to Frank's.

Stonor repeatedly moistened his throat with Madeira,
and it seemed to want moistening verv frequently indeed.
Flushed and excited, he expressed his wiUingness to play five*
guinea points, but Pinkley said that he did not care for that,
but he was willing to throw dice with him for a guinea a
throw.

At first Dick hesitated, until NeUie asked him if he was
going to show the white feather, whereupon he declared he
would throw dice until the following night if they liked.
So the hostess produced the boxes and dice, and Stonor and
Pinkley pitted themselves against each other. Stonor won
the first five throws. Then the stakes were doubled. He
won again. They were trebled, and Frank won, but the
next throw fell in favour of Stonor.

Then, while his attention was engaged for a moment or
two by Nellie, his opponent adroitly substituted for the dice
they had been using some that he slipped from his vest
pocket. They were loaded.

*You have had a run of good fortune, Dick,* he
remarked. * I'll throw you this time for twenty guineas.'

' Done.'

The dice fell against Stonor, and he lost.

^ Double or quits,' he cried excitedly.

* I aeree.'

Agam he lost.

^ Double or quits again.'

aa6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Frank agreed, and again he was the winner.

Dick got still more excited. He gulped down a glass of
wine. Again he went double or quits ; once more he lost.
He called down a malediction on the dice, and said he would
throw no more ; but Nellie rallied him, and banging his
fist on the table he declared he would be hanged if he
would be beaten, and once more he expressed his willingness
to play for double or quits. This time he won. Frank
looked gloomy. He wrote out a promissory note for the
amount, pajrable on demand, and rose to retire.

* Here, don't go,' cried Stonor sneeringly and in a very
tipsy sort of voice.

Before Frank could make reply, even had he intended to
do so, Francis Aveling spoke.

^ I am willing to throw dice with you for any amount,
Mr. Richard Stonor.'

* You — ^and who are you, pray i '

Dick was pretty far gone in his cups. His eyes were
bleared, his face very red, his voice thick and husky.

^ A gentleman, and your equal,' Aveling answered tartly.

^ Well, I don't know you,' muttered Dick down in his
throat.

^ Look here,' chimed in Frank, ^ this gentleman is a
friend of mine, but if you don't care to play with him I'll
have a last throw with you for five thousand guineas. If I
lose it will beggar me. Say, will you take on the risk ? '

* Yes,' growled Stonor. * I should like to beggar you,
hang me if I shouldn't.'

An angry light darted from Pinkley's eyes, though he
said nothing, but putting the dice in the box handed it to
his opponent. Stonor rattled the dice an unconscionable
time, then tossed the cubes on the cloth. They came up
a four, a six, and a two.

Frank took them, and turned up three sixes. Stonor
uttered an oath ; then crashing his fist down on the table,
he vowed he was ready to tempt fortune again by doubling
the stakes. The challenge was accepted. At his request
Nellie filled him out more wine, which he drank with a

AT DEADLY ENMITY ^^^

feverish greed. Frank threw first, and turned up a six and
two fives.

*• Beat that if you can/ he cried contemptuously.

Stonor tried to beat it, but £iiled. His total only came
to a four and two twos. An expression of anguish swept
over his hot, red face, but he said nothing.

* I'm good for double or quits,' remarked Frank.
Stonor breathed hard. He looked half-dazed, but made

an effort to command himself, and with a nod of the head he
assented.

He lost.

^ You owe me thirty thousand guineas,' said Frank coolly.
^ Mrs. Gray, give me a sheet of paper and ink, and pen,
please.'

The writing materials were produced, and very reluc-
tantly Stonor wrote out a promissory note and signed it.

* I'll give you another chance if you like,' said Pinkley ;
* I'll stake this promissory note against the Water Meadow
Farm.'

The Water Meadow Farm was a valuable property,
situated in Cumberland. It consisted of about one hundred
and fifty acres of land, much of it splendidly timbered.
Dick Stonor was too much under the influence of the wine
to be responsible for his actions ; but again he assented, and
again he lost. He looked fearful now. The veins in his
temples stood out like cords ; his eyes were bloodshot, his
lips blue ; all the colour had gone from his face, and his
cheeks were ashen.

*I believe you've cheated me. I'll not pay this,' he
spluttered.

Frank sprang to his feet, and drawing a pistol from his
pocket, he levelled it point blank at his opponent.

*JBy Heaven, if you don't, I'll blow your brains out,' he
said sternly.

The other two men joined in, and told Stonor he was

bound to pay his gambling debts unless he wished to be

disgraced ; and pretty Nellie reminded him that gentlemen

who lost money in her house were bound to pay if they

Qa

228 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

desired to cross her threshold again. Thus menaced on all
sideS| the wretched man mumbled that he would have
another chance, he would throw a final throw for double
the amount or quits. Pinkley agreed, and again he won.

Stonor looked imbecile, but Aveling thrust a pen into
his hand, and the miserable wretch scrawled an acknow-
ledgment of his indebtedness, and a promise to pay on
demand, also an acknowledgment that Pinkley had a claim
on the Water Meadow Farm. Then he seized a decanter
half full of wine, and putting it to his swollen and cracked
lips he drained it, and a few minutes afterwards rolled off his
chair and fell prone on the flbor. Nellie, who had been out
of the room, returned, followed by another man. This man
was Patrick MuUan, who lifted the insensible Stonor as if
he had been a little child, and carried him downstairs. The
hour was very late. All the servants had been sent to bed.
Nellie herself opened the hall door, and Mullan bore his
burden forth into the darkness of the night. Ten minutes
later Frank Pinkley and his companions stole forth, and
Nellie Gray, having turned the lights out, went up to her
bed.

Chapter V

RETRIBUTION

The morning of the third of February broke wild and
tempestuous. It had been a bad night. A roaring gale
laden with sleet had howled over London, doing tremendous
damage. When the first gleams of the new-born day were
asserting themselves, a drowsy, shivering night-watchman,
carrying a staff and horn lanthorn, observed a man huddled
up on the pavement by the railings of a church in the
neighbourhood of Bloomsbury.

The watchman tried to arouse the man, but couldn't,
for he was dead. An alarm was raised, a|id the body
conveyed to the nearest watch-house, where it was revealed

AT DEADLY ENMITY 229

that the man had been strangled to death. His throat was
not only lacerated, but was black and blue, and finger marks
were very visible. His throat had been squeezed by
powerful hands.

Garrotting was a common enough street outrage in
those days. The roughs and rascals who prowled the
streets at midnight found the throat grip a very effectual
means of preventing a victim from crying out or offering
resistance.

On the dead man's person nothing whatever was found
to lead to his identity. Everything of any value had been
taken away. It was clearly a case of robbery and brutal
murder ; so the machinery of the law was set in motion, and
the Bow Street runners received orders to leave no stone
unturned in their endeavour to track the criminal or
criminals to earth.

About a week later a well-known posting inn, situated
one hundred and fifty miles from London, on the Great
North Road, was also the scene of a curious occurrence.
The previous night four men had arrived by the mail coach
journeying north. They were well acquainted with each
other, apparently intimate friends. One appeared to be ill,
and decided to remain at the inn, and a companion agreed
to stop with him. The other two proceeded on their
journey.

The sick traveller and his companion, having dined and
consumed a bottle of wine, retired to rest about ten o'clock.
They occupied rooms adjoining each other and communi-
cating by an inner door. In the middle of the night the
people of the inn were alarmed by the violent ringing of
the bell of the sick man's room, and on making their way
thither they found the invalid in strong convulsions, and his
friend, agitated and distressed, doing what he could to relieve
him. As the case seemed very serious a stable hand was
roused up and ordered to ride at full speed to the nearest
doctor and bring him back.

The nearest doctor lived quite four miles away. When
he arrived at th^ inn he found that his servicer coi^ld be 9f

230 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

no avail, as the sufferer was dead. His friend stated that
he and the deceased both belonged to Edinburgh. His
own name was MacBride, and that of his dead friend
Richard Ogilvie. They were in business as grain mer-
chants at Leith, and had been to London in connection with
their affairs. While in London, Ogilvie had drunk heavily,
and was ill before he left.

The doctor, who was a pompous, ignorant man, certified
that the deceased had come to his death by an attack of
apoplexy, following a drinking bout. MacBride presented the
doctor with the very handsome fee of ten guineas. At first
Mac talked of taking his friend's body back to Edinburgh ;
but finding that there would be many difficulties in the way of
carrying out that intention, to say nothing of the great
expense, he reluctantly resolved to bury him in the parish
churchyard, and before the week was out Ogilvie was laid
to rest in the shadow of the grey old church, and the
sorrowing Mac continued his journey northward alone,
bearing his late friend's effects with him.

Somewhere about the time that Ogilvie was being buried
in the quiet country churchyard, not far from the inn
where he died, Mr. Pinkley, senior, and Mr. Pinkley, junior,
were closeted together in their sanctum at the office in
Ribchester. Pinkley, senior, looked grave ; Pinkley, junior,
was flippant and irritable.

* I tell you candidly,* said the old man in continuation
of the conversation they had been carrying on, * I don't
like the aiiair at all. You say that you won all this money
and the Water Meadow Farm estate from Stonor by fair
gambling. But what do you think people will say of us
when they know how we have become possessed of this
wealth ? '

* Say ! I don't care what they say. Let the gossips
chatter until their tongues swell. I told you I was going
to deprive Stonor of his riches, and I've kept my word.*

* But supposing Stonor repudiates his debts ? '

* He won't ; he can't ; he shan't. I would kill him
first/

AT DEADLY ENMITY 231

Mr. Pinkley looked at his son hard and angrily. It is
true he was a worldly man, and though he was nearing the
end of his earthly pilgrimage he still craved for wealth, be-
cause he could not bear the idea of depriving himself in his
old age of any of the good things he had been used to all
his life. Poverty aflfrighted him, and the bare thought of
him and his devoted sister wanting even common necessaries
gave him the cold shudders. But with all his faults and
all his worldliness Peter Pinkley had at least been honest.
He had robbed no one, he had cheated no one.

* If you are going to talk like that, Frank,* said the old
man sternly, * you had better take yourself off and let me
see you no more. Let us, at least, keep ourselves free from
crime.*

* I can take myself off, father, if that's what you want,*
retorted the son with brutal flippancy ; * but I must say a
word or two before I go. I bear the Stonors no love, and
I fail to see why you should, and, most of all, I hate Dick
Stonor. I believe he was mainly instrumental in persuading
Gertrude not to marry me. Anyway, I hate him. We
gambled together in a gaming house in London, and if he
had won, do you suppose he would have spared me ? Not
a bit of it. He would have had his pound of flesh, and I'm
going to have mine, so that's all about it. I shouldn't care
a brass farthing if I ruined Dick Stonor body and soul.*

Frank, having thus given vent to his feelings, and
expressed his sentiments, such as they were, flung himself
out of the room, and neither by word nor gesture did the
old man seek to stay him. A wilful and wayward son who
allows his passion to get the better of his judgment should
be let alone for a time, at least until he has had opportunity
to reflect.

So thought Mr. Peter Pinkley, and though he was
stricken with a great sorrow, he preserved a dignified silence ;
but that evening when he reached his home he laid the
whole matter before his sister. It was not often he took her
into his confidence to such an extent, but he had now begun
to realise that he wa$ a lonely old man ; that the shadows

232 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

were gathering about him, and at such a time the love,
advice, consolation, and sympathy of a devoted woman were
not to be priced by gold.

Of course, Miss Pinkley was terribly shocked, and she
expressed a fear that Frank was making a whip of scorpions
for his own back. She said that she would admonish him
when he came home, and use whatever influence she
possessed to dissuade him from pursuing a course which she
was sure would end in disaster and ruin.

Peter could neither say yea nor nay to this. He was
too conscious of his own impotence, and so was reduced to
silence.

Frank Pinkley did not return home that night. But
this caused no actual uneasiness, as it was not an unusual
thing for him to remain away for nights at a time. He had
reached an age when he was no longer amenable to control,
and was too self-reliant and too conceited to tolerate advice.
That evening when he left the office he hired a nag in
Ribchester, and rode at a smart pace to a neighbouring town
some twelve miles away. He drew rein in the yard of * The
Posthorn,' an inn of some repute. He was informed by the
landlord, who knew him very well, that he was expected in
room number twelve. To that room he made his way and
found Francis Aveling and Arthur Kemp. They had
been anxiously looking for his coming. They were pulling
at long pipes, and on the table were glasses and a bottle that
had contained claret.

* We began to think you were not going to turn up,'
said Aveling as he glanced at a clock that ticked solemnly
against the wall in a recess.

^ I'm a man of my word. I've come as soon as I could.
But any news ? '

* None.'

* Well, what about that bottle ? Is it empty ? '

* Quite.'

Thereupon the bell-pull was tugged, and when the
waiter appeared he was instructed to procure another bottle
of the best claret the house contained.

AT DEADLY ENMITY 233

Both Aveling and Kemp looked as if they had been
dissipating pretty freely^ but Kemp, in addition, appeared to
be very ill. His eyes were sunken and shaded by dark rims.
His cheeks were bloodless and of an ashen grey, and his ex-
pression was that of a man who was gazing upon some
horrible sight. He started when the door opened and the
waiter brought in the wine ; he started when one of his
companions coughed, and he almost jumped off his seat when
the clock with a wheeze and a whir began to hoarsely
strike the hour of nine. It was obvious that his nerves were
strung to a high pitch of tension, and that he was suffering
greatly.

Before the waiter left the room he told him to bring
some brandy, and when it was brought he poured a quantity
into a tumbler, and having filled it up with claret drank deeply
of the potent and deadly draught, remarking apologetically
that he wanted something to steady himself with. Then
they fell to talking about their financial aflairs and of the
division of the spoil. It was through Aveling that Pinkley
obtained an introduction to Mistress Nellie Gray. Aveling
had been in the habit of frequenting the lady's house. He
was aware also that Stonor was one of her most favoured
visitors, but only so long as she could squeeze money out of
him. Her greed furnished Aveling with a means of secur-
ing her services in the deep-laid conspiracy to fleece Dick
Stonor of his belongings. Without her aid the plot could
hardly have been carried out. Heartless as she was she
stuck at nothing that was calculated to fill her coffers.
Kemp had prepared the loaded dice, and furnished informa-
tion of Stonor's movements. He was enabled to do this, as
he was very intimately acquainted with a young man who
acted as Stonor's valet, and this young man, being very pliable
and very foolish, was as wax in Kemp's hands.

Necessarily these two men were anxious to obtain their
share of the proceeds of their infamy, each saying that he
intended to go to some other country as soon as possible ;
but Pinkley explained that he had not yet presented the
promissory notes,^ but he had raised fifty pounds from

a34 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

another source, and had brought that amount in crisp bank
notes, which he divided between his companions. Thejr ac-
cepted the money with anjrthing but gratitude, though they
expressed their willingness to wait yet a little longer for the
final settlement, subject to Pinkley giving them there and then
a written acknowledgment of his indebtedness to them.
Somewhat reluctantly he did this, and the business so far
being settled, they continued smoking and drinking until a
late hour, when they retired to their respective rooms ;
Kemp having to be helped upstairs by the boots, for his
head was muddled with drink, and his legs seemed too weak
to bear the weight of his body.

Pinkley returned to Ribchester the following day, and
spent the evening at his father's house, and the occasion
was thus afforded Miss Pinkley to act the part of admonisher.
But her nephew was only a little less tolerant of her
attempts to convert him than he was of his father. He had
committed himself too deeply to recede, even had he been
inclined to do so ; but he soon began to realise that the way
of the transgressor is hard, for when he presented the promis-
sory notes at Stonor's bank for payment he was informed that,
Mr. Stonor being still absent, they could not be taken up
until his return. This was a very unpleasant check to
Pinkley. He saw that he had overreached himself, for he
had not anticipated any difficulty in the way of getting the
notes turned into cash, notwithstanding Stonor s absence,
but herein he reckoned without his host. Three, four weeks
passed and Stonor had not returned. His friends began to
get a little uneasy, for he had not even written ; and when
another week had gone it was deemed advisable to com-
municate with a gentleman whom Stonor always visited when
in the metropolis. This gentleman in turn, growing suspicious,
spoke to his attorney, and the attorney on his part deemed
it prudent to give some information of the missing gentleman
to Bow Street. The attorney's description of Stonor was
found to tally with the description of the murdered man who
had been found by the watchman at the church railings in
Bloomsbury. This was a revelation, and forthwith went an

AT DEADLY ENMITY 235

intimation to the friends in the North that there was reason to
fear Mr. Richard Stonor had been a victim of foul play.

It chanced that at this time there was a very shrewd
and very sharp-eyed detective attached to Bow Street. He was
exceedingly well known, and his reputation had spread far
beyond the metropolis. He had been the means of hunting
down a good many notorious criminals, and had cleverly
broughtto booksomeof the most desperate highwaymen of the
day. His name was Bob Sturgess, and he was considered a
very valuable addition to the forces of law and order.

Bob had examined the body of the man found against
the church railings in Bloomsbury, and saw what, of course,
was very apparent, that the murdered man had occupied a
good position. The softness and whiteness of his hands
and the fashionable cut of his clothes proclaimed that fact. It
has already been stated that the pockets of the dead man
had been rifled and everything carried away, everything with
one exception — z card, a playing card. It was the ace of
spades. It was in the left-hand pocket of the breeches.
How it came to be there was a mystery. The card happened
to be of a peculiar make that was only produced in Paris,
and was very rarely seen in London.

Bob took charge of that card, thinking that some day it
might prove useful. He reasoned that the gentleman must
have been in a gaming house, and having been fleeced of
everything was carried out in a state of intoxication
probably, and placed where he was found. Whoever
carried him did not carry him very fer. At least that was
a reasonable inference, and it served as a guide to Bob.
He knew the neighbourhood, knew most of the houses, and
was acquainted with Nellie Gray's place. Her house was
one of five, each within a quarter of a mile of where the
body was found. All these houses were gaming houses,
and Bob Sturgess set his wits to work to try and discover if
Stonor had been in one of these five houses on the night of
his death, and if so, which one.

The task was a delicate and difficult one, and though
Bob persevered he could ^et no sign, and at last determined

236 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

on a very bold move. He swore ^ an information ' that he
had reason to suspect Stonor was murdered in one of the
five houses, and he applied for and obtained a warrant to
search them. He proceeded to carry out the search with
caution and secrecy, and, strangely enough, by chance and
not from design, Nellie Gray's house was left to the last.
The other four had yielded no results, and Bob had some-
what lost heart when he commenced business at Nellie's.
Needless to say, she was highly indignant, and protested
vigorously against what she termed ^ this indecent intrusion '
on her privacy.

Of course that did not influence Bob, who proceeded
with his work in a very systematic manner, and directed
special attention, as he had done in the previous cases, to
inspecting the packs of cards that had been thrown on one
side when done with. It seemed a very slender chance,
indeed, but Fate was playing her own game. In the large
drawer of a spare card table were several disused packs of cards.
Three or four of these were of French make, and one lacked
the ace of spades. Bob kept his discovery to himself; and
his next step was to apply for a warrant for the arrest of
Nellie Gray and all her household on suspicion of having
been accessory to the murder. The arrest was as a thunder-
bolt to Nell, but she had to yield to the force of law.
The system pursued in those days was of a far more inquisi-
torial nature than is permitted now, and the result was
some of the servants were induced to confess that Stonor
was well known at the house, and had been there on the
nieht of his death, but they were firm in declaring that they
did not know how he left nor when he left, as they were all
in bed before the party broke up.

Bob now regarded it as one great seminal principle of
his inquiry to learn who visited Nellie's house on the night
of the crime. Nell herself was mum. Neither threats nor
punishment could induce her to disclose anything. The
servants were severally examined on the point, and as they
had not the same inducement for concealment as the
mistress, a fairly accurate description of Pinkley and his

AT DEADLY ENMITY 237

companions was forthcoming, including that of Patrick
Mullan, who, it appeared, was confined to the kitchen as ^ an
inferior person,' and entertained bv the servants, and one
of them mentioned that, incidentally, he had stated that he
came from Westmoreland.

In the meantime Nellie Gray applied to her influential
friends for assistance, and amongst them was the young
scion of a noble houser This young blade had become in-
fatuated with the designing and wicked Nell, and the
result was he offered bail for her to any amount. Other
influence was also brought to bear, and Nell was released
on bail, which was fixed at three thousand pounds, a large
sum in those days.

Following up his inquiry. Bob Sturgess learnt through
Stonor's London friend that Frank Pinkley had presented
promissory notes at Stonor's bank for large amounts. In
consequence of this revelation Bob set off armed with
warrants and accompanied by four officers, for the North,
and had no difficulty in effecting Pinkley's, Avcling's, and
Kemp's arrest. Both Aveling and Kemp were still residing
at the inn, * The Posthorn,' whither Pinkley had gone to see
them ; but Aveling was prostrated on a bed of sickness.
He was reduced to a skeleton, and seemed to be in the last
stage of a wasting and fatal disease. Notwithstanding this.
Bob Sturgess felt compelled to remove him with the others
to London. Bob was disappointed in not having been able
to get any trace of Patrick MuUan.

On a blustery March day Bob and his companions set
off with their captives for the metropolis ; but before they
had covered half the distance, it became evident that
Kemp's hours were numbered, and Sturgess humanely
ordered a halt at a post inn, and procured the services of a
physician. But all the doctor could do was to announce
that the invalid would not live through the night. On
learning this Kemp became dreadfully excited, and begged
that a clergyman might be sent for. To this gentleman,
and in the presence of the officers of the law, the wretched
man unburdened his conscience and divulged the whole

238 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

plot. Pinklejr was the originator of it, and he had taken
the others into his confidence in order that they might help
him in his nefarious scheme of fleecing Stonor.

Patrick Mullan, who hated Stonor, was used as a spy
on his late employer's movements, and he it was who gave
the information that Stonor had gone to London. The
object in engaging Mullan to carry Stonor from Nellie
Gray's house when he was in an insensible condition, and
leave him in the street, was in the hope that he would die
from exposure, and that it might be regarded as a case of
natural death or suicide ; but Mullan had strict injunctions
not to injure Stonor in any way. But the most dreadful
part of Kemp's confession had yet to come. He, Mullan,
and the others left London together, and Mullan became
very disagreeable. He did not want to go back north, and
demanded a large sum of money, which, of course, could
not be paid until the promissory notes were cashed. One
evening he got intoxicated, and began to blab some
dangerous secrets, and it was decided by the other three
that he should die, as the most effective means of keeping
him quiet. Kemp was in the habit of taking a medicinal
preparation of arsenic for his complaint. He carried a
bottle of this stuff always with him, and swallowed a very
minute dose of it twice a day. The doctor had warned
him never to exceed the dose prescribed, as the effect
would be fatal. A considerable quantity of this stuff was
given to Mullan while he was intoxicated, and it made
him very ill. He and Kemp remained behind at the post
inn, and that night Kemp administered to him a second
large dose of the medicine, which proved fatal. Kemp
represented himself at the inn as MacBride, and his dead
companion as Richard Ogilvie.

Within half an hour of unburdening his conscience or
this terrible crime Kemp was no more. Of course the
supposition was that Mullan had murdered Stonor, and the
others were arraigned for being accessories to the murder ;
but the &ir Nellie Gray did not stand at the bar with the
others. Availing herself of her liberty on bail, and no

}

AT DEADLY ENMITY 239

doubt with the connivance of her admirer, she stripped her
house of everything valuable, realised all her securities, and
bolted. There was some reason to believe she went to France.
Aveling and Pinkley were convicted, and sentenced to trans-
portation for life.

The terrible aflFair so preyed upon poor Miss Pinkley
that she went out of her mind, and had to be confined ;
and Peter Pinkley only survived six months.

As a remarkable sequel to this story, some years later,

when the matter had long been forgotten by the public, a

loose woman denounced a man who had robbed her and

shamefully ill-treated her, as the murderer of Richard Stonor.

According to her statement, this man, who had passed under

many aliases, and had suffered imprisonment, but whose

real name was Joseph Stagg, was prowling on the night of

the crime, and came upon Stonor in a drunken sleep against

the church railings. He commenced to rob him, when

Stonor offered resistance, and the villain strangled him.

When this statement came to be tested and investigated it

was ultimately proved by a chain of circumstantial evidence

to be correct ; and in a box at Stagg's residence some letters

and papers belonging to Stonor were found. Stag^ was

tried, found guilty, and sentenced to death, and just before

being hanged he confessed that he had been justly convicted,

and that he really murdered Stonor, not knowing, of course,

who he was. He had no intention at first of killing him,

and would not have done so if he had remained quiet.

Patrick Mullan was thus exonerated from the charge of

murder. Of course, after the incidents herein recorded the

great cleavage between the two families was still further

widened ; and to this day a Stonor hates a Pinkley, while a

Pinkley would not, if he could help it, walk on the same

side of the street as a Stonor.

240 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

XV
THE FORGED CHEQUE

A VILLAGE DRAMA

Chapter I

IN THE BANK PARLOUR

'Chaffers, send Mr. Hargood here/ was the banker's
order to the servant who noiselessly appeared in answer to
the bell-summons. Chaffers bowed and retired, and, in a
few minutes, the green baize door that gave entrance to the
snug bank parlour swung silently on its hinges, and a young
man entered. Mr. Millwater was a florid, round-faced,
grey-haired man, with keen grey eyes and a fresh colour.
His beginning had been very humble indeed. His father
was a carrier for nearly fifty years on the great London
road ; but, being ambitious, he had managed to give his
only son Tom a smattering of education, and obtained a
situation for him as ofEce lad in the employment of a firm
of London auctioneers. Tom was plodding and shrewd,
and, before he was twenty, he made his way back to his
native village of Woldholm, where, profiting by his London
experiences, he commenced business in a very small way
as an auctioneer. Steady and persevering, he soon managed
to place his business on a secure footing, and by the time he
was thirty he was accounted one of the most successful men
in the village. He now took unto himself a wife, the
daughter of a prosperous fermer, and she brought him a
small dowry. With his marriage, his ambition took higher

THE FORGED CHEQUE 241

flight, and abandoning his practice as an auctioneer, he took
to banking, beginning humbly, but gradually rising, until
now we find him bearing the reputation of being th«
wealthiest man in all the country side ; while the influence
of Millwater*s Bank, which had never been sullied during
the thirty years of its existence, was for more than local.
Mr. Millwater was now sixty years of age, and a widower.
His wife had been dead several years, and she had left him
with an only girl. Rose Millwater, in spite of her twenty-
one years, was still very girlish in appearance, for she was
fciir as a lily, with light auburn hair, and roguish soft brown
eyes. She was petitiy plump, and pretty ; indeed, there were
those who maintained that she was for and away the
prettiest girl in Yorkshire. Of course she had admirers
innumerable, but her recognised and accepted lover was
Richard Thorn, who occupied a responsible position as
clerk in Mr. Millwater's bank. Thorn's father had been a
successful man of business, and had risen to the dignity of
mayor of Woldholm, which position he occupied at the
time of his death. He and Mr. Millwater had been most
intimate friends, and when Thorn died his son Richard,
who was a somewhat fast youth, and had spent a good deal
of his time in London, came to Woldholm, and accepted a
position in the bank, where he had been for five years.
He had succeeded in making numerous enemies by his
somewhat overbearing and domineering spirit, and a good
many nasty things, whether true or not, were said about him ;
but, in spite of this, he was a great favourite with the banker,
who openly acknowledged him as his future son-in-law.
The gossips said that this was due to the fact that he was
the member of an old county family, whose motto was In
memoriam majorum. It is more than probable that, in this
matter, the gossips were quite right ; for Mr. Millwater's
besetting sin was pride, and being ashamed of his own
ancestry, he was anxious, no doubt, to become allied by
marriage to a house with a pedigree.

The engagement between Richard Thorn and Rose
Millwater had existed for a year j but previous to that

242 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

there had been a considerable deal of love-making of a
surreptitious character between Rose and George Hargood.
They had been acquainted almost from childhood. George's
&ther was the proprietor and editor of a local paper of good
position and considerable influence ; but he had died sud-
denly one day of apoplexy, leaving a young widow and
three children (a son and two daughters). The business
of the paper was carried on by an uncle, who was made
trustee of the property i but he shamefully abused his trust,
and two years had ruined the business, and the paper
stopped. George then entered Mr. Millwater's bank — that
gentleman having known the lad's father intimately, and
often been glad to avail himself of the influence which his
journal had possessed. It came about one day, however,
that young George, by the advice and urgent request of
Rose, asked Mr. Millwater's sanction to his openly keeping
company with Rose. The request, for a time, made the
banker furious, and he asked the audacious young man how
he dared to aspire so high, seeing that he was merely a
humble clerk. Poor George was terribly crushed by this
refusal, but he held his peace, for he was the sole support,
or almost so, of his widowed mother, and he could not afibrd
to quarrel with his patron. Mr. Millwater soon got over
his temper, and, as if sorry for having displayed it, he pro-
moted George a little and gave him a more confidential
position ; but he emphatically told him that he must abandon
all hope of Rose. As Rose took her father's view, George
had no alternative but to comply ; but in a final letter he
received from Rose, she gave expression to sentiments
which left no doubt on his mind that she cherished very
warm affection for him, but allowed this afiection to bie
subservient to duty to her father.

George, who had hitherto been a visitor to the banker's
house, was now no longer permitted to go ; but he soon
learned that a rival had supplanted him in the person of
Richard Thorn, and it became an open secret in the village
that Rose and Richard were^ affianced. Some of the
wise acres shook their heads ominously at this, and exclaimed.

THE FORGED CHEQUE 243

^ Ah, it will never be a good match ; young Richard is far
too wild to make a steady husband.'

Whatever George Hargood's feelings were he managed
to conceal them ; but he would scarcely have been human
if he had not entertained for his more fortunate fellow-clerk
a very decided feeling of dislike. George held a subordinate
position under Thorn, whose despotic nature often manifested
itself in a very unpleasant manner. Nevertheless, George
bore with it all, for although his position was irksome, he
hoped to better it ; and in spite of the banker's opposition to
George's love-making, it was evident that he was much
attached to him and reposed much trust in him.

^ Sit down a minute, George,' said Mr. Millwater, as the
clerk, in obedience to the summons, now stood before him.
In a few minutes the banker ceased writing, and, looking at
his massive gold repeater watch, said, ^ I'm going to give
you a special and delicate mission to carry out. A written
order for a thousand pounds was presented at the bank
counter late yesterday afternoon, and the money was paid
to the bearer. The order apparently was drawn by our old
and respected client, Mr. Gregson, of Ashley Hall. There
is the order ; read it.'

This order was written on a sheet of notepaper bearing
a motto and crest, and dated Ashley Hall. It was to this
effect:

< December 33, 18 — .

^ Please pay to bearer the sum of a thousand pounds, and
charge to my account. I have unfortunately mislaid my
cheque book for the moment, and want the money immedi-
ately, as I start to-night, as usual, for the Continent.

* Philip Grbgson.'

When George had read this, the banker asked :
^ You know Mr. Gregson's signature ? '
' Yes, sir.'

* Do you believe his hand wrote that ? '
George looked at the writing attentively, and examined
it from every possible point of view, then answered :

R2

a44 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

' Well, sir, it looks wonderfully like his signature.'

^ It does, and I am not sure that my suspicions would
have been aroused if it had not been for the fiict that it is
totally unlike Mr. Gregson to draw a cheque in this manner.
During the many years that he has been my client he has
never done such a thing before. I therefore compared the
signature, and found certain minute discrepancies that are
remarkable. I was induced by that discovery to drive over
to Ashley Hall last night and question Mr. Gregson*s
housekeeper as to whether she was of opinion that her
master had sent for this large sum of money ; and she
strongly inclines to the belief that he did not, or she would
have heard something about it. Now what I want you to
do is to go up to London to-night, and cross over to Paris
without a moment's delay. Mr. Gregson has been in the
habit for years of spending Christmas Day in Paris with
his daughter, who is at school there, and he alwajrs stajrs at
the Grand Hotel. You will take this paper with you, and
ask him whether he drew the order.'

George's countenance fell a little, for, while feeling
honoured that he was entrusted with so important a duty,
he had hoped to spend Christmas with his mother and sisters,
never before having been absent from them on that day in
the whole course of his life. He, however, raised no
objection. It was to his interest to obey his orders. But
he remarked :

^ It is nearly four o'clock now, sir, and I shall hardly be
able to catch the up train to London.'

*If you wait for the train from here to York you
won't, as it does not arrive until an hour and a half after
the departure of the London train. But you have plenty
of time to drive the distance. You will therefore go to
my house and tell Blake, the coachman, to send the lad
Billy with you in the (log-cart. You had better have the
mare Bess ; she has done no work for three or four days,
and will cover the twenty miles under two hours. That
will give you ample time.'

The banker put Mr. Gregson's order in ^n envelope

THE FORGED CHEQUE 245

and sealed it with the bank seal, and gave it to George, who,
as he was about to depart, asked :

* Who paid the money, sir ? *

* Mr. Thorn,' was the answer.

George made no further remark, but took his leave, and
about a quarter of an hour later Mr. Millwater drew his
heavy arm-chair before the blazing fire, and pondered for a
time, till he knew that the bank had closed and the
employes were taking their departure. Then he sent for
Richard Thorn. Thorn was rather a conspicuous young
man. He was tall and muscular, with long, delicate white
hands and a very decidedly handsome face. He was &ir,
the colour of his hair approximating almost to flaxen. His
eyes were a pronounced blue, and his complexion clear as a
woman's. He wore a heavy moustache, and there seemed, to
be a certain patrician languor in all his movements. He
displayed a profusion of jewellery, and his general style and
get-up suggested that he was a rather fast and somewhat silly
young man.

^ I am by no means satisfied, Thorn, about that order of
Mr. Gregson's,' said the banker. ^ It is so unlike him to
send in such a manner. It is almost a pity that you didn't
make some inquiries of the man who presented it.'

* Well, we were very busy at the time, as it was market
day, and near our closing hour ; and as I had no reason to
doubt the genuineness of the document, I, of course, paid
the money.'

^ Umph ! well, perhaps after all it's right ; but still I
have my doubts, and I am sending Hargood up by the mail
train to London, so that he may go on to Paris to-morrow
and see Mr. Gregson.'

^ But he cannot catch the mail train,' exclaimed Thorn
quickly, glancing at the clock.

* No, not if he waits for the local train from here. But
I have told him to drive to York. Young Billy will run
kim over with Bess in a couple of hours ; that will give
him ample time.'

*0h, yes, of course,' answered Thorn, in rather an

246 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

absent sort of way, and playing nervously with his watch
diain. Then he laughed and added : ^ Well, I don't envy
him the drive. It's going to be a bad night, and I would
rather that he crossed the wold than I did.'

^ Ah, well, we cannot all lead feather-bed lives,' said the
banker sententiously, as he rose and stood with his back to
the fire.

* Have you anything further to say, sir ? ' Thorn
asked. ^I have a quarter of an hour's work yet to do
before I can leave.'

* No, nothing. We shall see you up in good time to-
morrow, I suppose ? '

*Ycs.'

^ You had better drop in this evening as well, and see
the tree lighted up.'

* If at all possible, I will do so,' Thorn returned ; * but
I have two or three engagements, and may be detained ;
though I will make an enort to be with you. At any rate
you'll see me to-morrow.'

Thorn returned to his books. The bank was already
closed, but, being Christmas Eve, he had a little extra work
to do ; for as Christmas Day fell on a Thursday, the bank
was not to be opened again until Monday, so that there
were a good many things to square up.

A few minutes later Mr. Miliwater, enveloped in a
heavily-furred coat, passed through the counting-house,
nodding good-night to his employes who still remained, and
taking his seat in his luxurious carriage he drove to his
home through a blinding snow-storm.

Chapter II

ON DEAD man's MOOR

WoLDHOLM was a quaint little town, with a population of
nearly five thousand inhabitants. It was situated in a bleak
and exposed position on the edge of one of the great wolds.

THE FORGED CHEQUE 247

It had recently been connected, by a local line, with the
nuin line of railway running from the North to London, the
nearest main station being York, which was twenty miles
away. A train left Woldholm every afternoon, timed to
catch the up London train, but when Mr. Millwater made
up his mind to send George Hargood to Paris this train
had already gone, so that there was no alternative but to
drive the distance, and, as Mr. Thorn had observed, it was a
drive by no means to be envied on a bitter winter night,
with snow driving in blinding sheets across the open wolds.
But duty was duty with Hargood. Much as he would
have liked to have spent Christmas Eve and Day with those
who were dear to him, he felt that he must practise self-
denial, however keen might be the disappointment.

The day had been one of the sullen, heavy leaden days
so peculiar to the English climate at this time of year.
There had been occasional falls of snow, with a piercmgly
cold wind. Towards night the wind rose almost to a gale,
and the snow settled down into a continuous fall. It was, in
truth, a terrible night ; such a night, to use an expressive
phrase, that one would not wish to turn a doe out into it.
And yet, in accordance with a strong sense of duty, George
Hargood prepared to face the elements during that twenty
miles' drive to York. It would, perhaps, have been difEcuit
to have found a worse road in all England to traverse during
a snow-storm, for the greater part of it lay over the wolds,
and at night time it was lonely, desolate, and weird.

Mrs. Hargood and her daughters were a little anxious
about George ; but though the disappointment of not
having him with them on Christmas Day was very great,
they said nothing that was calculated to give him uneasiness
or in any way deter him from doing his duty to his employer.
George, himself, knew that there was a certain amount of
peril in the journey during a dark night, and more particu-
larly during a snow-storm, for lives had often been lost.
But both the mare and the boy were quite used to the road,
so that the danger was reduced to a minimum. The worst
bit of the route was a section of nearly two miles, com-

148 RECORDS OF VlNCENT TRILL

mencin^ three miles from the town. It was krlown as
' Dead Man's Moor/ and not only did it bear an evil
reputation on account of crimes that had been committed
there, but it was about as treacherous as could well be
imagined. This arose from the fiact that it was full of great
holes, owing to the peat having been dug up in parts ; and
there were hillocks and deep hollows that made driving a
ticklish thing. Billy, the stable-help, however, had driven
over the road often, and the marchess knew every inch of
it, so that they might be trusted to perform the journey in
safety.

The Mr. Gregson whose signature the banker believed
had been forged was an eccentric and wealthy gentleman
who lived at Ashley Hall, near Woldholm. He was a
widower, with an only daughter, who was being educated
in Paris, and for several years he had been in the habit of
leaving England on the twenty-third of December, in order
that he might spend Christmas Day with her. He had
long been a profitable client of Mr. Millwater, and it was
no unusual thing for him to draw cheques for large amounts ;
but it was very unusual for him to write a cheque on a sheet
of notepaper. It was this fact that had attracted the
banker's attention, and comparison of the signature had led
him to think the order was a forgery. Of course, without
knowing for certain whether this really was so, he could
take no definite action, and therefore it occurred to him
that the best thing to do was to send a special messenger to
the client, who generally remained abroad several weeks.
Mr. Millwater had no one else in his employ whom he
would have cared to have sent on such a mission, excepting
it was Richard Thorn ; but Thorn was under an engage-
ment to spend the day at the banker's house, where there
was always much feasting and junketing on Christmas Day.
Hargood was aware of this latter fact, and it made him feel
a little envious and dull, as he set out on his journey. His
thoughts naturally turned to Rose, who had been, and still
was, so dear to him. He knew that she had loved him,
even if she did not do so now, and that that love might have

THE FORGED CHl|QUE 149

found consummation in marriage had it not been for his
rival, Richard Thorn. No wonder that he felt bitter
against Thorn, who had not only supplanted him in the
affections of Rose, but did all he could to render his position
in the bank irksome, in order, as George believed, to drive
him out. Hargood had borne all this silently, knowing
that it was useless to complain to Mr. Millwater, who was,
so to speak, wrapped up in Richard, and would pay no
attention to anything tha^ was said against him.

As the friendly lights of the town faded behind Hargood,
he felt very sad and depressed. In imagination he pictured
the luxuriously furnished home of the banker, with its
brilliant lights, and merry gathering of happy people ; and
conspicuous amongst them Richard Thorn, talking love to
Rose. As he thought of this, he considered it especially
hard that he should be compelled to undertake this lonely
and trying journey on Christmas Eve. After a time, how-
ever, he came to regard it as an errand that might turn out
to his advantage and profit, and so, consoling himself with
this reflection, he buried his face in the collar of his great
coat, and swathed himself in his wraps.

It was, in truth, an awful night. The air was thick
with driving snow, and the wind was piercing. Billy, who
was like a white statue on the driving seat, tooled the mare
with consummate skill ; but occasionally the furious gusts
of wind caused her to shy and come to a dead stand, so that
care and patience were necessary in driving her. But Billy,
who was a courageous youth of eighteen, seemed to enjoy
the situation, and now and again his exuberance of spirits
found vent in whistling and snatches of songs. The pace
was necessarily slow, and Hargood began to have serious
doubts whether, in the face of such a storm, he could reach
York in time to catch the train. Not only wa§ the road
very heavy with the snow, but in parts it was entirely
obliterated, rendering it imperative that the utmost caution
should be exercised to prevent accident ; for if the proper
track had not been kept, a spill in some of the deep depres-
sions of the wold would have been certain. George came

250 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

to the conclusion that it was the utmost folly to have com-
menced such a journey during so terrible a storm. Even
Billy got a little anxious, and frequently jumped down in
order that he might lead the horse. The lamps of the dog-
cart were light^ but the wet, blurred glass prevented
much Ught from escaping i and owing to the air being
thick with swirling snow it was almost impossible to dis-
tinguish anything, more particularly as the steam from
the panting horse encircled them in a dense cloud of vapour.

^ I fear as how we winnat get to York in time, Measter
Hargood,' Billy observed, as he scrambled once more to his
seat, after having got his horse through an unusually deep
drift. ^ If we were across Dead Man s Moor, tVorst part
would be passed, and we could go ahead then. But I
shouldna wonder if we get stuck there.'

*We must try and do it, Billy,' Hargood replied
anxiously.

^ Oh, aye, we'll try, of course,' answered Billy, with the
spirit of a true Briton, as he coaxed the mare to quicken its
pace.

^ How far is it now to Dead Man's Moor i ' George
asked.

^ Nigh on to half a mile, I reckon, judging by the
distance we've come.'

The fierce wind made conversation by no means easy,
and so nothing more was said ; but Billy continued to urge
Bess with all the stable cajolery at his command, and that
was no small stock. At length the notorious moor was
reached, and here the storm seemed to concentrate all its
fury, and the wind swept over the wild and desolate
moorland with extraordinary force. Billy descended from
his seat, and cautiously led the horse by the bridle ; but they
had not proceeded very far, when, with startling suddenness,
the glare of a bull's-eye lantern was flashed upon them, and
the frightened mare plunged on one side and overturned
the cart. Hargood was shot out into the snow, and being
swathed in wraps was powerless. But no sooner had he
fallen than a man sprang upon him and dealt him such a

THE FORGED CHEQUE 151

heavy blow with a stick, over the head, that he was com-
pletely stunned, and the snow was reddened with his blood.
While this was occurring, a second man had seized Billy,
and throwing a sack over his head, twisted a cord about it
and round his arms, thus rendering him powerless. The
first man, having silenced his victim, tore off the wraps and
proceeded to rifle his pockets, searching the prostrate man's
purse and papers ; but though the purse contained a consider-
able sum of money, he did not touch a halfpenny, but,
muttering an oath between clenched teeth, he thrust the
purse back into George's pocket. At last, from an inner
breast pocket, he produced a pocket book. This he ex-
amined by aid of the lantern, and found the envelope
containing the cheque for one thousand pounds, purporting
to have been drawn by Mr. Gregson. With a sort of
chuckle of triumph he seized this, replaced the pocket book
in the still insensible man's pocket, snatched up the lantern,
and he and his companion disappeared, as if by magic, in the
darkness. All this was enacted in the space of a few
minutes ; and so sudden had the attack been that the
victims could not offer the slightest resistance.

Finding himself freed from the powerful grip of his
assailant, Billy struggled to get his hands out of the coils of
rope, and at last succeeded in doing this. Then, by dint of
great exertion, he got his head clear of the sack, and rose to
his feet uninjured. He immediately turned his attention to
Hargood, who was still insensible. The mare was standing
quietly a few yards away, attached by one shaft to the over-
turned cart — the other shaft being broken, as also one of
the lamps, while the other lamp had gone out. But Billy
was provided with matches, and he succeeded in getting a
light ; and, examining his companion, he was alarmed to see
that he was as pale as death and bleeding from a wound in
the head. To this wound Billy had the good sense to apply
snow, which stopped the flow of blood, and also brought
George to consciousness again, though it was some
minutes before he was able to realise his situation. His
first thoughts, naturally, were that he had been attacked by

252 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

footpads for the sake of plunder, but he soon discovered that
his purse, with its contents, was intact, and he was
consequently puzzled to account for the assault.

There was not much time, however, for reflection, for
the snow and the bitter cold made it dangerous to remain
inactive. They had no difficulty in righting the overturned
dog-cart, and by means of some string and their hand-
kerchief Billy tied the broken shaft together, and he then
suggested that as it now would be impossible to get to York
in time for the train, they had better turn back. George
was reluctant to do this, but he soon saw that to persevere
in the face of such difficulties was useless, and so he decided
to return, especially as he felt ill and much shaken, and was
suffering considerable pain from the wound in his head.

As they drove slowly back towards the town, he and
Billy discussed the reason that the attack had been made
upon them, and who their assailants were. There were two
of them, that was certain ; but neither had uttered a word,
and, as their faces had not been seen, identification seemed
almost impossible. Once more George examined his purse,
but not a shilling was missing. Then suddenly it flashed across
his mind that some of his papers had been taken away, and
on looking through his pocket book he discovered that the
cheque had gone. Here, then, was the key to the mystery.
The thieves had purposely waylaid him in order to get the
forged cheque into their possession ; and that it was forged
seemed now to be made manifest, otherwise, why were the
robbers so anxious to possess it ? The discovery made
Hargood exceedingly anxious to reach the town and give
information to the police, in order that steps might at once
be taken to trace the scoundrels. But everything was
unfavourable to expedition. The storm seemed to rage
with increased fury, and the snow was so deep that the
progress was painfully slow. But, to add to the difficulties,
the broken shaft kept parting, and Billy was at his wits' end
until he decided to cut part of the reins and make a strap
for the damaged shaft, and then lead the horse the whole
way by the bridle. It was a tedious and painful mode of

THE FORGED CHEQUE 253

proceeding, but there was nothing else for it, and it took
them fully an hour and a half to reach the town.

Immediately on arrival, Hargood proceeded to the police
station and gave information of the robbery ; but the
inspector seemed to think that as the thieves had laid their
plans with such deliberation, they would be sure to get clear
off, especially as neither George nor Billy could give the
slightest description of their assailants.

^ Maybe that will come in useful,' said Billy, as he
handed to the inspector a morsel of a printed neck handker-
chief, which he had torn from the neck of the man who had
assailed him.

^ It isn't much,' said the inspector, ^ but it may be of
use.'

As there was nothing more to be done, George, whose
head was becoming more painful, went to his home, and
Billy returned to his master's house.

Chapter III

THE REVELATION

There was a merry and jovial party at Mr. Millwater's,
and all the household, including the servants, had assembled
in the great dining-room, during the distribution of the
articles from the Christmas tree ; the distribution having
been entrusted to Richard Thorn, who, in evening dress and
with a red and white camellia in his button-hole, looked
very fascinating, and was an object of admiration to the
numerous young ladies who were present. Conspicuous
amongst them was Rose Millwater, who, without doubt, was
the prettiest girl there. Her hair, dressed with camellias, the
gift of her lover, Thorn, was the envy of her companions ;
for it was wavy and luxurious, and added greatly to her
charms. Her pretty face was flushed with excitement, and
she looked very proud and very happy, and when her lover

aS4 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

took from the tree a cro^n, made of winter flowers, inter-
twined with mistletoe, and placed it on her head, there was
a burst of enthusiastic cheering that made her blush deeply,
until her cheeks rivalled the hue of the brilliant berries of
the hollv which hung on the walls.

* Benold,' said Richard, when the outburst had somewhat
subsided, ^ behold my rose, the Queen of Christmas.'

^ And behold her thorn,' said a wag in the company.

^ Well, you know there is never a rose without a thorn,'
Richard answered, at which there was another peal of
boisterous laughter.

At this moment the door slightly opened, and the red
£ice and shock head of Billy, the stable-help, appeared at the
aperture. He had been to the stables and put the mare up, and
finding the lower part of the house deserted, he had made
his way to the dining-room, attracted by the laughter.

Mr. Millwater was the first to see him. Billy did not
speak, but beckoned ; and, in utter amazement, as if it had
been Billy's ghost, instead of Billy himself, the banker
hurried out into the passage, where he soon learned the cause
of the lad's return.

Mr. Millwater was, as the saying is, a long-headed man,
and he immediately saw that his suspicions about the cheque
being a forgery were fully confirmed, and somebody, who must
have had knowledge of the fact that Hargood was going up to
London with it, had waylaid him in order to get possession of
the forged cheque, and thus destroy the documentary evi-
dence, so that absolute proof of the forgery would be rendered
impossible. The banker was greatly troubled, and, enjoining
on Billy the necessity to keep perfectly silent in the house as to
the cause of his return, he sent him down into the kitchen,
and told him to get a good supper. Then he put on his
hat and coat, and went immediately to Mrs. Hargood's, to
see George and express his sympathy for the misfortune that
had befallen him, as also to get from him a circumstantial
account of the whole afiair. But George absolutely had
nothing to tell. He had suddenly seen the flash of a lantern
light, which, shining full in his face, rendered it impossible

THE FORGED CHEQUE 255

that he could see who held the lantern. Then, the next
moment, he experienced a sort of sting on his head, and the
rest was a blank.

Mr. Millwater felt that there was a good deal of
mystery in the af&ir, but he could not doubt for a moment
that the crime had been very deliberately planned. George
couldn't give the slightest information about his assailants ;
but Billy, the stable-boy, was certain that there were two
men, though he knew nothing more. Mrs. Hargood and
her daughters were greatly distressed about George, and
insisted on sending for the local surgeon, who found that he
was suffering from a severe, but not dangerous, scalp wound ;
but he stated that care and rest were most essential in
order that risk from fever might be avoided. Mr. Millwater
was scarcely less distressed, and resolved to amply recom-
pense his unfortunate clerk, though he did not say anything
about it then. He next proceeded to the police station,
where he saw Mr. Miles, the inspector, telling him that he
must leave no stone unturned to try and discover the
miscreants, and he offered a reward of one hundred pounds
for their capture and conviction. Mr. Miles had already
taken steps, and had sent out detectives to try and track the
criminals.

^ If you get the slightest clue be sure you let me know
instantly,* said Mr. Millwater, as he took his departure,
and, much troubled and concerned, returned to his home.
He found everyone very merry and apparently very happy.
The young people had cleared the things out of the dining-
room and were engaged in a dance. Mr. Millwater felt
that he could not take part in the merriment of his guests,
and so he made an excuse to retire, and, in company with
two old friends, he went to the smoking-room and consoled
himself with a cigar.

It was midnight before the company separated, those
who were not staying in the house going to their homes.
Amongst these latter was Richard Thorn, and he lingered
behind to say a few tender words to Rose.

* You love me very much, don't you, darling ? ' he

2s6 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

whispered, as they stood for a moment in the shadow thrown
by the great hall door.

She nestled a little closer to him and answered, ^ Yes/

*I am going to ask your father to let us be married
early in the year/ he said, *and you must back up my
request/

One of the servants coming into the hall put an end to
the ttte-d^ttte^ and Rose had only just time to say :

^ Be sure you come early to-morrow, Richard, and go
to church with us.'

Promising to do this, he kissed her and was gone,
and she hurried to her room, where memories of the
past came trooping up, and, in spite of herself, she could
not help feeling that her happiness would have been
truer and more perfect if she were going to be the wife of
George Hargood instead of Richard Thorn's wife.

Christmas morning came in fine, but bitterly cold.
The storm had ceased, but everywhere the snow was lying
deeply, and trees and hedgerows were heavily laden, and
were stony and rigid in frozen silence. Richard came
early, as he had promised, and went to the old parish
church, in company with Mr. Millwater, his daughter, and
their friends. A thoroughly English Christmas dinner
followed, and there was much merriment and goodwill.
The banker had quite recovered his spirits, and entered
heartily into the enjoyment. When the cloth had been
removed and the wine and walnuts placed on the table, a
servant entered and handed Mr. Millwater a note, which
consisted of two lines only :

*Sir, — Will you kindly grant me an interview, as I
have something important to communicate.

* Walter Milks.'

Mr. Millwater guessed at once that the ^something
important ' had reference to the previous night's aflair, and
so, excusing himself, he went to his private room, where he
found Mr. Miles, the inspector, waiting.

* Excuse my breaking in on your festivities, sir, but you

THE FORGED CHEQUE 257

being the Justice of the Peace, I had no alternative,' said
Miles apologetically.

^Make no apologies, Miles,' Mr. Millwater returned.
* Duty is dutv. I suppose you've caught somebody ? '

* Yes, sir.
<Whoishe?'

^ You know Daniel Rankin, who keeps the public-house,
the Bull and Gate, in Moor Lane ? '

* Yes. You mean the man who was formerly butler or
something to Mr. Gregson.'

* That's him. He's a great betting man, and we've
long had our eye on him. Well, he's one of 'em.'

* One of them ! then there's another ? '

* Yes, sir.'

< Where is he?'

* Well, sir, I'm afraid you will be very much astonished
when I teU vou.'

Mr. Millwater turned a little pale, and he said quickly :
< Who is it? who is it?'

* Your own clerk, sir, Richard Thorn.*

The banker staggered as if he had been struck, and
gasped out :

^ Impossible I impossible ! '

* I believe, sir, that it's quite true,' Miles said. * One
of our men was sent down last night to the Bull and Gate,
thinking that he might pick up something. He found that
Rankin had been out all the evening, and had only just
come in, and that he was wearing a scarf which matched
the piece given to us by your lad, Billy. On the strength
of that, I sent two men down this morning to ask him to
account for his absence on the previous night. At first he
refused to do this and got very confused, and at last con-
tradicted himself on so many points that we arrested him on
suspicion. When he was brought up to the station house,
he said if we would let him off he would tell us who the
real party was as did the job. We couldn't promise to let him
off, but we said any useful information he might give us
might tend to lessen the punishment that would be metea

2S8 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

out to him if he were proved guilty. So he told us that
he had some of Mr. Gregson's writing paper, which he
brought away with him when he was discharged from
Ashley Hall for drunkenness. Young Thorn had been
engaged in some betting transactions with him, and was
in his debt to the tune of several hundred pounds. Thorn
suggested that if he knew how to do it safely he would take
money from the bank, and replace it if his luck turned.
Rankin then told him that if he would write a cheque on
Mr. Gregson's paper he would present it for payment. It
appears that Thorn is very skilful at imitating handwriting.
The forgery was so far successfully carried out that the
money was obtained. But it appears that Thorn became
aware that Mr. Hargood was going to London with the
forged cheque, and, in alarm, he went down to Rankin and
persuaded him to join him in waylaying Hargood. I have
been down to Thorn's house and questioned his mother
and sisters, and I learn that he was out all the early part ot
the evening, and came home very wet with snow ; and that
having changed his clothes in great haste he came here.'

Mr. Millwater was aghast and shocked at this revelation.

It was a crushing, stinging, awful blow to his pride. It
was some minutes before he could recover himself sufficiently
to thank Miles, and tell him to keep Rankin in custody
until the morrow, when he would sit on the bench to
examine the prisoner. In the meantime, in order to avoid
the shock and scandal on Christmas Day, no steps were to
be taken with reference to Thorn until the next day, and
after the magisterial examination of Rankin.

The banker was glad to get rid of the inspector, and
then he shut himself in his room for two hours, so over-
whelmed was he with grief. But he was a practical man,
and a man of action, not of sentiment. So at last he sent
for his daughter, and, gently as he could, made the dreadful
revelation to her. She was much shocked, and naturally
indignant at the deception practised upon her.

*We must keep this matter to ourselves to-day,' she
said, * for it is a pity to spoil the pleasure of our guests.'

THE FORGED CHEQUE 259

She returned to the drawing-room, where their friends
were assembled. Thorn was joking with some young
ladies, and evidently enjoying his own jokes, for he was
laughing heartily. As soon as the opportunity occurred,
she went closer to him, and whispered :

* Follow me into the conservatory 5 I wish to speak to
you.*

There was something in her words and something in
her manner that struck him as ominous. The laughter
died from his face, and a chalky paleness spread over his
features. He did follow her, and, trying to cheat himself into
a belief that all was well, he said, with a sickly smile, as he
endeavoured to take her hand :

* What's all this mystery about. Rose ? *

She drew back indignantly, and with flashing, angry eyes
answered :

* Touch me not. I know all your baseness — ^all your
cowardly treachery, and I burn with indignation when I
think that the lips of a thief have ever touched mine. You
may well hang your head — well turn away in withering
shame. But I am not unmindful that you have a mother
and sisters, and that this is a time when charity, not
bitterness, should be dominant in the human heart. For
their sakes I am willing to save you from the penalty of
your crime. Before the hand of justice clutches you, fly,
and in some distant land repent of your error. If you want
money I will give it to you. Here, take this five-pound
note. It is all I have here, but it will help you on your
way. Pass out of that door ; cross the lawn and gain the
lane — then the world is before you. If you remain here
you will be thrust into a felon's cell. Escape while there is
yet a chance.'

She ceased speaking. He turned his eyes upon her in
mute appeal. His face was ghastly in its whiteness, and he
tottered as if about to fall. He tried to utter some words,
but they stuck in his throat. Then, without oflFering to
take the bank note which she held towards him, he turned,
passed through the doorway that gave access to the garden,

sa

26o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and then the instincts of self-preservation rose strong, and
he fled.

To Mr. Millwater and his daughter it was a black and
dismal Christmas Day, but they made a great efibrt to look
cheerful, and they were heartily glad when night came and
they were able to retire.

The next morning, the man Rankin was brought
before Mr. Millwater, who was the Justice of the Peace,
and examination left no doubt that his story was true, and
a warrant was issued for Thorn's arrest. But he had got a
good start, and escaped from the country. Rankin was
subsequently tried at the assizes, but in consideration of his
confession, and of his having refunded nearly all the money,
he got off with the light sentence of six months' imprison-
ment.

George Hargood was ill for nearly a month, as inflamma-
tion of the wound in his head set in. On his recovery,
Mr. Millwater promoted him to Thorn's place in the bank,
and in the course of another fortnight he had been invited
by the banker to once more visit at his house. As was to
be expected, this led to the renewal of the engagement
between him and Rose, and before another Christmas had
come round the banker had given his consent to their
marriage, and they became man and wife on the twenty-
fourth of December, that being the anniversary of Hargood's
adventure on Dead Man's Moor.

26l

XVL
JUDGED BY THE DEAD

A PARIS TRAGEDY

Chapter I

THE LOVERS

On a bitter December night, some years ago, a young man
and woman stood at the corner of the Champs Elys^es, at
its junction with the Place de la Concorde, familiar to every
visitor to Paris. The air was thick with flakes of snow,
that were swirled and tossed about by a piercing east wind,
shrieking furiously in the great square, which was dismal
and deserted now, and looked so cold, gloomy, and cheerless
that the very statues appeared to shiver. The magnificent
avenue of the Champs Elys^es, generally so lively and
brilliant, was silent save for the screaming wind and the
hissing of the gas-jets, that were blown into blue stars one
moment, to flare up into bursts of flame the next. An
omnibus was toiling up the avenue, but save the driver of
this vehicle no human being was in sight, except the man
and woman alluded to. They stood close together in the
shadow of a leafless tree. With great difliculty he held an
open umbrella over the woman's head and shoulders, so as
to give her some protection from the pitiless blasts. She
was closely muffled up, a woollen shawl almost completely
concealing the lower part of the face. He wore a long
overcoat buttoned up to the chin, and a soft felt hat was

262 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

pressed down over his brow. They were both well dressed,
and it was obvious they belonged to the better class.
They had been in earnest conversation for some time,
and at length the young woman said in a tone of anxious-
ness :

^ Ernest, I must go now. I am afraid as it is that I
shall have been missed, and if so I shall be subjected to all
sorts of questioning.'

She spoke in English, and her voice was sweet and
musical.

*I won*t keep you any longer, dear,* he answered,

* though it*s very hard to have to part from you.'

* Never mind,' she replied soothingly. * Let us hope for
the best. You know that you have my love, and I'll be
true to you, come what may.'

* You will ? ' he exclaimed eagerly. * You vow that
solemnly and sacredly ? '

*Yes.'

He bent forward and kissed her on her soft lips, which
she put up to meet his. Then he said :

^Let me accompany you as far as the door. It will
at least give me a few minutes more of your dear com-
pany.'

* No, no, Ernest ! ' she cried nervously. * It is far better
not. There is no telling who might see us, and if it were
known that I had met you again it might lead to my being
sent away from Paris altogether.'

* True, true,' he answered, with a sigh. * Well, kiss
me, love — again, and again. You will contrive to send me
a few comforting lines, will you not, and arrange to see me
at the earliest opportunity ? '

* Yes,' she said, as she warmly returned his embraces.

* Adieu, Ernest. Take care of yourself. God bless you ! '

Their lips met again. They pressed each other's
hands. Then, pulling her shawl close up to her throat, she
left him, and hurrying over the wet and slippery pavement
she made her way to the Rue St. Honori, where, ringing
the bell at one of the large and old-fashioned houses that

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 263

abound in that street, she was admitted by the concierge.
The young man whom she had addressed as Ernest stood
looking after her as she sped away until she had turned a
corner and passed out of sight. Then he turned with a
sigh, and was going in the direction of the bridge that
crosses the Seine by the Chamber des Deputes, when
another man stepped from the shadow of a tree and, placing
himself in his path, exclaimed fiercely :

* So you have been at your old game again, notwith-
standing the repeated warnings you have had. Now
listen, and take this as a final warning — if you do not
cease your attentions to my cousin I will shoot you. So
help me God ! '

^ Look here,' said Ernest, lowering his umbrella, stand-
ing on the defensive and speaking resolutely, if not defiantly
— * look here, Robert Bin^t, your threats I despise, and if I
do not resent them it is for Marguerite's sake. You are
playing the part of a spy, which is mean and contemptible,
and I scorn you for it, but I totally deny your right to
try to coerce your cousin to take a course which is obnoxious
to her.*

* Indeed, Mr. Ernest Milner,* sneered the other man.
^ By what right, I want to know, do you dare to intrude
yourself into a family where you are not wanted ? More-
over, I was not obnoxious to Marguerite before you
appeared upon the scene. And it is only since you have
filled her head with ridiculous nonsense that she has chosen
to disobey her father. But now I warn you that, just as
sure as you stand there at this moment, I'll blow your
brains out if you attempt to communicate with Marguerite
in any way. Cease all connection with her if you wish
to live. I've said my say. That is the last word — re-
member it.'

He turned on his heel and walked away, and was soon
lost in the gloom. For some moments Ernest Milner
stood looking after him, and irresolute, as though he could
not make up his mind what to do ; but at last he muttered
wrathfuUy :

264 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

* I care nothing for your threats, and, as clever as you
think yourself, vou may be outwitted yet/

Soothing himself somewhat with this reflection, he
pursued his way across the Seine and to the Quartier Latin,
where he lodged.

Ernest Milner was an Englishman, as his name be-
tokens. He was studjring medicine in Paris, and was a
student at the College de France. He was the son of an
English physician who had eained considerable eminence,
but having a mania for speculation had gambled his means
away on the Stock Exchange, and having ruined himself
and his iamily went out of his mind and died suddenly.
His son, being thrown upon his own resources, had taken
up medicine as his profession, and had gone to Paris to
complete his studies and acquire a knowledge of the French
language. At this time he had been resident in Paris for
two years, occupying humble lodgings in the Quartier
Latin, and studying hard for his diploma. He was a good-
looking young man, about three and twenty years of age,
and he was accounted by his professors and fellow-students
as being very clever and very promising.

About a year after his arrival in Paris he met Marguerite
de la Motte. He happened to go into an omnibus with
her one day at the Madeleine. When the conductor came
for her fare she found that she had left her purse at home
and was absolutely without a sou. Ernest gallantly paid
the money and thus commenced an acquaintance with her.
A few days later he met her by chance in the gardens of
1 he Tuileries, and the acquaintance begun in the omnibus
was strengthened and resulted in their ultimately felling in
love with each other ; but little did either dream that it
would lead to the terrible circumstances and bitter sufiering
liCreafter recounted.

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 265

Chapter II

A woman's resolution

Colonel de la Motte was a descendant of a Huguenot
family who had sought refuge in England. When about
twenty years of age young Motte returned to France,
entered the French army, and subsequently went through
the Crimean campaign. Previous to this he married a
wealthy French lady, who brought him a fortune. But she
died during her husband's absence in the Crimea, leaving
him an only daughter.

He had been passionately attached to his wife, and her
death aiFected him in a very marked degree. It was said
that his mind had become slightly unhinged, though this
showed itself only in a certain eccentricity, which was
noticeable more particularly in his dress and habits. He
usually attired himself in the costume of Louis XIV.'s
reign. He was fond of seclusion, and inclined to be miserly,
although he had ample means ; for, apart from his pension
when he retired from the service, he had some private means
of his own as well as his wife's fortune. But he was con-
stantly haunted with a fear that he would die poor and be
unable to leave his child anything. He had a hobby. He
dabbled in astronomy, and at the top of his house in the
Rue St. Honor^ he had erected a small observatory, and
here he spent many hours of his life. He was greatly
respected by his neighbours, for, although parsimonious, he
was a man of unblemished honour. He was proud of his
pedigree, and while he would haggle for half an hour about
a sou, he would never be in anyone's debt to the extent of
a centime.

His daughter Marguerite, who was nineteen years of age,
was noted for her remarkable beauty. Her mother had been
beautiful, but the daughter rivalled the mother. Marguerite's
life was a dull and monotonous one, for her father would not
allow her to go much into society, and he kept no company

a66 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

himself. Marguerite did the cooking, for only one female
servant had been retained — ^an old woman, whose husband,
Jacques Guillmot, occupied the position of concierge. Jacques,
who was nearly eighty years of age, was an army pensioner,
who had been in the same regiment with his master in
the Crimea.

From the foregoing particulars it will be readily under-
stood that the life of Mile, de la Motte was not a very bright
one, and she felt its dulness, although she uttered no com-
plaint. Almost her sole visitor was her cousin, Robert
Bin6t. He was the son of her mother's brother, and had
been educated for the profession of an analytical chemist.
As he had decided talent he might have distinguished him-
self in the walk he had chosen, but he was idle and dissolute,
and had already squandered a small fortune. He had the
misfortune to be singularly handsome, and being fully
conscious of this it had begot in him an inordinate vanity.

His uncle the Colonel, who was quite blinded to his
faults, intended him for his son-in-law, in accordance
with a promise he had made to his wife before her death.
In accordance with this promise Robert, who was thirty
years of age, had been regarded for years by all the neigh-
bours and friends as the affianced husband of the colonel's
daughter. Marguerite, however, did not like her cousin.
She knew of his dissolute habits and spendthrift ways, and on
more than one occasion she had told her father of her
aversion ; but he had pooh-poohed it as a girlish whim,
and said that she should become Robert's wife as soon as
she was twenty-one, and that he Would give her a handsome
dowry, and in the event of his dying before the marriage
all his money would pass to her on the sole condition of
her marrying her cousin, but failing that it would be distri-
buted among the hospitals of Paris.

Marguerite naturally felt her lot to be a hard one. To
be forced to marry a man whom she did not like was odious
to her. But what could she do ? She had no means of
her own, and in France a girl, however good-looking she
may be, has little chance of becoming a wife unless she

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 267

has a dowry. She therefore resigned herself to her fete and
tolerated her cousin's visits until she met with Ernest
Milner. Then she became a changed woman, and when
she had carried on a secret courtship with her new lover for
two or three months she determined to be secret no longer,
and boldly took him to her father's house and introduced him
to her father as the man she would choose for a husband.

The result was totally different from what she had
expected. Colonel de la Motte flew into a violent passion
and threatened her with all sorts of pains and penalties.
Of course he told his nephew, and then there was another
scene. Robert, who had so much at stake, would not brook
even a shadow of a rival.

In a few days the Colonel had forgotten the incident, and
was once more absorbed in his astronomical observations.
But not so Robert. Jealousy had quickened his vigilance,
and he watched his cousin as a leopard will watch its prey.
She on her part resolved to have Ernest, and so secretly
corresponded with him, and occasionally met him, but he
never answered her letters, as they were not likely to reach
her hands. Robert at last discovered that she was still
keeping up the connection, and the result was several
unpleasant scenes.

On the night alluded to at the beginning of the narrative
she had gone out to meet her lover, believing that Robert
had left Paris for a day or two on a visit to some friends.
But he had evidently told her this to deceive her, and then
had played the part of the spy, as we have seen. After
having threatened his rival, Robert proceeded, before his
passion had cooled down, to his uncle's house, and rated
Marguerite in a very violent manner. For a time she bore
his reproaches and abuse, though she wept broken-heartedly.
But at last, stung beyond endurance by the bitter things he
said of his rival, she turned upon him almost fiercely and
exclaimed :

^ You are a coward and a mean, low fellow, and I hate
you. And now I will tell you this, whatever the conse-
quences, whatever may be done to me, whatever my father

268 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

txuy do or say, I will be the wife of Ernest Milner. Neither
for the sake of my fitther, nor anyone else, will I consent to
be kept from the man I love, and to marry the one I hate/
Her cousin was startled and surprised at her outburst.
Her meekness and submissiveness had hitherto been such
conspicuous traits in her character that this sudden revolt
was all the more astounding, while, if she persisted in keeping
her word, he knew that it meant to him the loss of a fortune ;
and already his impecunious position had forced him into
discounting that fortune to the usurers. He therefore
viewed with ill-concealed alarm her resolution to break her
trammels and wed poverty with love, in preference to riches
with hate. Consequently he tried to undo the mischief he
had done and to win her favour again, but she replied that
she would never be his wife while Ernest Milner lived.

* Would you if he were dead ? ' he asked.

' No, for then I should die too,' she answered.

^ But remember,' he exclaimed in his desperation —
* remember that if you marry anyone else your father's
wealth passes out of the family ! '

* Oh ! I am aware that it is only my fortune you want,'
she observed with contempt ; ^ but you are doomed to
disappointment, for I will accept whatever destiny may be
in store for Ernest. He is clever and industrious, and will
rise. Of that I have no fear.'

Robert bit his lip in an effort to control his temper. To
hear his rival's praises thus sung was galling in the extreme ;
but harsh words would do no good, and would only prejudice
his cause. He therefore resolved to dissemble, and changing
his tactics he said plaintively :

* You are treating me very harshly, Marguerite ; and
the better life I had hoped to lead with you you are putting
out of my reach. I am aware that I have been foolish and
reckless in the past, but I have not only hoped, butfirmly
resolved, to make amends in the future, and as your husband
devote myself to the promotion of your happiness.
Remember that we are blood relations, and it was the
dying wish of your mother, as it is the living wish of your

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 269

father, that you and I should become man and wife. How-
ever much, therefore, you may be inclined to disobey your
lather, think, at any rate, of your dying mother, my aunt,
and remember that dying wishes are ever held sacred.'

Marguerite was touched by his manner and moved by
his specious argument. The reference to her mother had
had an effect, and he saw it. Tears gathered in her beauti-
ful eyes as she answered :

* I would wish, Robert, to obey my dying mother's
wishes. But when my mother lay on her death-bed I was
too young to form any opinion of my own, and I am
convinced that if she lived now she would never try to force
me to take a course that is repugnant to me. As my
husband, I am convinced you could never gain my love.
Why then should you desire to place us both in a position
that could not fail to be productive of unhappiness and
bitterness ? *

* I do not accept your views as correct,' he said. * You
don't know your own mind at present. At any rate, think
well before you take a step that will mean ruin for me and
unending misery for yourself ! '

* What would you have me do then ? ' she exclaimed
tearfully and in evident distress.

* Give up Ernest Milner,' he answered.

* Never,' she exclaimed with energy.

Before Robert could make any reply the door opened,
and a tall, grey-haired man, with a very wrinkled face and
sunken eyes, appeared. It was Colonel de la Motte. Both
Marguerite and Robert were confused at his inopportune
entrance on the scene. He saw at once that something was
wrong, and looking from one to the other he asked :

^ What is the meaning of this ? Marguerite in tears !
Have you been quarrelling ? ' There was no answer. Then
he said sternly, ^ Marguerite, what is the matter ? Speak.'

Her only response, however, was a flood of tears, and
she hid her face with her handkerchief.

* Robert,' cried the Colonel still more sternly, * I look to
you for an explanation,'

270 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

*And in common honesty I must eive it,* Robert
answered with well-feigned reluctance. 'Marguerite and
I have had some words, for she has again been to see Ernest
Milner/

Marguerite flashed a glance of withering scorn at him
as he spoke, and with a passionate gesture Colonel de la
Motte exclaimed :

^ Is this true, Marguerite ? '

^ It is,' she Altered.

* Marguerite,' he said with bitter reproach, ^ you have
been my idol, and I have looked for love, obedience, and
gratitude from you. But, mark me well, and carefully
weigh my words. If you marry not the man of my choosing
you shall marry no other, for 1 will put you into a convent
before that shall happen. Here, before you, is your future
husband. You may marry your cousin and gain a fortune ;
but go against my wishes, and I will tear you out of my
heart, and even curse you ! '

He could not trust himself to say anything more, but,
turning hurriedly, left the room. Marguerite was over-
whelmed ; she devotedly loved her father and dreaded his
wrath ; and she stood now in fear and doubt and trembling.
Robert approached her and, taking her hand, said :

* Why should you make dissensions in the family ? Why
should you break your father's heart ? Write to Milner
and tell him he is not to see you again.'

* Never ! ' she said, as she pushed him away, almost
violently. * I am mistress of my own heart, and will
dispose of it as I think proper. I have sacredly pledged
myself to Ernest, and unless he should disgrace himself in
my eyes I will be true to him.'

Robert felt that it would be useless to argue with her
while she was in her present frame of mind, but her words,
^ Unless he should disgrace himself in my eyes,' sank into
his brain, and he mentally resolved to try and find some
means for making Milner disgrace himself. So, wishing his
cousin good-night, he left the house.

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 271

Chapter III

IT WAS MURDER ; BUT HOW, BY WHOM, AND WHY ?

In order that the incidents which follow should be more
clearly understood, it will be necessary to describe Colonel
de la Motte's house. The lower door opened from the
street into a broad passage, and, as is generally the case in
Paris and other large French towns, it was in charge of a
cmciergey the old army pensioner of whom mention has
already been made. He occupied a small room on the left
side, with a window that commanded a view of the passage.
A cord at the head of his bed enabled him to pull the latch
of the door back and give admittance to anyone seeking it,
and from the window he could observe who passed. At
night-time a small reflector lamp was placed on the window
ledge in such a position that its light fell full upon anyone
entering the passage, either coming in from the street or
going out. At the end of the corridor, which was short, a
flight of stone steps turned to the right and led up to another
door, which was always kept on the latch and could be
opened with a latchkey. Marguerite, her father, and the
old housekeeper each had a latchkey to this door, which
gave access to the house proper, and on this flat was the
kitchen, the drawing-room. Marguerite's sitting and bed
room, and the old woman's bedroom. A storey higher,
M. Motte had his dressing-room, a library, and a sitting-room,
and on the upper storey of all was his observatory. This had
formerly been a garret, but he had taken the original roof
off and put on a dome-shaped glass one, and had fitted up a
large telescope. The floor was littered with charts, plans,
books, and papers of various sorts, while the walls were
covered with a series of astronomical charts, illustrating by
sections the whole of the starry firmament. Adjoining this
observatory was a small store-room or lumber closet. It was
reached by a door from the landing, and it was lighted by a

272 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

small sliding glass panel in the wall of the observatory itself.
It was used principally for storing old boxes, papers, and
general lumber, and was seldom entered by anyone.

We will now return to Ernest Milner. On the night
that he parted from Marguerite and was met and threatened
by her cousin, he wended his way to his humble lodgings in
a very troubled frame of mind. It is true that Marguerite
had given him a promise to be faithful, but when could he
hope to be in a position to claim her ? His means were so
limited that they barely sufficed to pay his fees and his board
and lodging. And, even when he had passed his examina-
tions and got his diploma, he would still have to obtain a
practice, and therefore, taking the most favourable view, and
assuming that nothing intervened to wean Marguerite from
him, he could hardly hope to be in a position to make her
his wife for four or nve years.

He sighed despairingly as he thought of this. Four or
five years to an ardent lover seemed an age ; and he felt that
life without Marguerite was hardly worth living. Had he
been permitted to have free intercourse with her, he could
have worked and toiled cheerfully for any length of time.
But, as it was, his interviews with her would be few and
very far between, and though she wrote to him occasionally,
and had given him permission to write to her once a month,
on a fixed day, so that she might be on the look-out for the
letter, this hardly compensated him for his not being able to
see her.

These reflections troubled him for several days, and then
he resolved to risk a letter to her, and ask her to repeat her
vows of faithfulness in order to give him comfort in his
loneliness. His letter was filled with the * burning eloquence
of love,' and, alluding to her father, he said :

* Is there no hope that during your father's lifetime I can
claim you for my own ? Is there nothing on earth can
move him from his stubborn obstinacy, and induce him to
favour my suit ? If not, then I must say — and I say it out
of the very excess of my love for you, and you will under-
stand the feeling* that prompts | me to say it — that his death

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 273

alone can give me happiness, the happiness, indescribable and
unutterable, of possessing you. But for your beloved sake
I pray fervently that he may long be spared to you. Sorrow
and pleasure are ever woven together, and the loss of a
father would give you a devoted husband, who would
worship the very ground upon which you walked.'

The letter containing these remarkable passages was duly
despatched, and he waited in anxiety for several days for the
answer he hoped to get. More than a week elapsed, then
there came a note that put his heart into a flutter. It con-
tained only a few lines, which said :

^ Come here on Christmas Eve between nine and ten — I
expect to be alone. The concierge will be absent then, but
the latch of the lower door shall be left up, so that you can
enter, and I enclose a latchkey whereby you can let
yourself in. Be sure and burn this letter as a precautionary
measure.'

If Ernest was pleased he was also surprised. It did
strike him as peculiar that she should have sent him a latch-
key ; and it also seemed to him that the writing was
somewhat different from her usual style. But at kst he
persuaded himself that this was mere fancy, and as for the
key — well, she had some well-founded motive in sending that,
he was sure, and, in accordance with her request, he held
the paper over the flame of his lamp, and watched it burn
into a black fragment. He regretted almost immediately
that he had burnt it — not that there was any warm expres-
sion of love in it that made it worth preserving, but he
remembered that he had two or three of her dear letters,
which had contained no such request, stored carefully away
in his writing desk in company with her portrait and a lock
of her beautiful hair, and he might have compared the hand-
writing, for he felt sure there was some marked difference.
Where the difference lay he could not precisely determine,
and his precipitate action rendered comparison impossible
now. She wrote rather a striking hand, her writing being
very legible, quite free from flourishes, and more in the
style of a man's than a woman's hand.

T

174 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

He continued for a little time to dwell upon the subject,
and to feel troubled in an unaccountable way. That is, he
really could not suggest any substantial grounds for his
trouble beyond a fancied difierence in the handwriting ; and
he had stupidly rendered it impossible to set his doubt at rest
by impulsively destroying the letter. However, when he
had pondered on the subject for some hours, and had argued
with himself pro and con^ he came to the conclusion that he
was vexing himself with mere imagination, and so he dis-
missed the thing from his mind, and looked longingly
forward to the assignation.

The Christmas Eve of that year was one of the coldest
and brightest that had been experienced for many years.
The air was almost arctic in its keenness and crispness.
From a sky that was absolutely without cloud the stars
shone with amazing brilliancy, and the moon, which was
almost full, filled the boulevards, streets, and squares with a
weird and silvery light. On every tree and shrub the hoar-
frost sparkled ; not a breath of wind stirred, and the foliage
was as motionless as if carved out of marble. Few pedes-
trians, save the mis/rabies and the waifs, who seemed to be
forgotten alike by God and man, were abroad, for the cold
was so intense ; but a heterogeneous collection of vehicles
rolled along conveying friends to visit friends, for the
Parisians are fond of visiting on Christmas Eve.

Ernest Milner left his lodgings at half-past eight, and
walked at a rapid rate in order to keep up the animal heat,
but even as it was the cold was so intense that in spite of
heavy coat and muffler he was half frozen when he reached
the Rue St. Honori. He found the door of M. de la
Motte's house unlatched, as the letter told him he would
find it. He entered, closed the door after him and latched
it. The corridor was in darkness, but he groped his way
along, crept cautiously up the stairs, and let himself in with
the latchkey. The passage of the house was illmninated
by an octagonal lamp of red glass, suspended frdm the
ceiling. He paused and listened, but alt was still. He had
expected that Marguerite would have been on the qui vive,

JUDGED BY THE DEAD I75

but obviously she was not. He was acquainted with that
part of the house from his former visits, and so he made his
way into the drawing-room, having first hung his hat
on a peg on the hat-stand. A lamp burned on the
chimneypiece, but no one was in the room. He waited
for at least ten minutes, but nobody came, and the house
was silent as death, save for the ticking of a marble clock
which told that it was half-past nine. Ernest got a
little uneasy. He was in a delicate position ; if anyone
else discovered him there what explanation could he offer,
and would he not be seriously compromised ? Where
was Marguerite i Was she purposely keeping away ?
Had she deceived him ? He was angry with himself for
thinking the latter thought. She deceive him ! Pshaw,
the thing was impossible.

In the observatory above Colonel de la Motte was
studying the stars. He was oblivious of everything and
everybody. He was an enthusiast, a dreamer, and on such
a night as this he was rapt and absorbed in the contempla-
tion of the myriads of worlds that studded this unclouded
sky. Lying back on his cushioned platform, his eye.
riveted to the eyepiece of his telescope, he heard nothing
save his own breathing, even if he heard that, and saw
nothing save those worlds of dazzling lights. He was a
star-gazer, and he had no thought for anything else.

Slowly and silently as he so gazed, the glass panel that
admitted light to the closet already described slid back,
and in the aperture a man's &ce, pale and fierce-looking,
appeared. But only for a moment, then it was withdrawn,
and the panel was partly closed again, an opening being
left of about two inches. At this opening there was
thrust forth what seemed to be a brass tap, from which
issued a slight hissing sound.

In a minute or two the star-gazer's hand, which was on
the adjusting screw of the telescope, dropped down like a
lump oif lead and with a strange suddenness. Then his head
fell back upon the platform and rolled from. side to side for
a few moments as if he were in agony. His deeply-lined

T 2

276 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

and careworn fiice became livid and ghastly, and the eyes
appeared to bulge out. There were two or three convulsive
throes of the whole bodyi a great heaving of the chest, a
bursting sigh, then motionlessness and silence.

The stars would roll in their courses for cycles and
ages yet imborn, but the star-gazer was dead. It was
murder ; but how, by whom, and why ?

Ernest Milner watched the marble clock on the mantel-
piece with weary and anxious eyes. The hands pointed to
ten, half-past. Then his ear caught the sounds of ap-
proaching footsteps. Marguerite at last, he thought, as he
sprang up to greet her. The door opened, and not
Marguerite, but the old housekeeper, appeared.

Ernest started back in disgust and surprise, and the
woman screamed, but, quickly recognising him, said :

* What are you doing here ? *

^I-— I wanted to see Mademoiselle Marguerite,' he
stammered confiisedlv.

*Your want will not be gratified, then,' she replied
angrily. ^ Mademoiselle Marguerite has gone to spend the
evening with some friends, and will not certainly be back
before midnight.'

Ernest felt as if a blow had been dealt upon his head.
He was confused and almost staggered. A deception had
been practised upon him — ^for what purpose he could not
pause to inquire then, for he was overwhelmed with shame
and mortification. He stammered out some sort of an
apology, wished the old woman good-night, and passed
hurriedly down the stairs. As he reached the lower door,
the concierge*s lamp was burning brightly, and the man
himself, aroused by the noise that Ernest made in en-
deavouring to open the door, slid back his window, peered
out, and exclaimed, ^ Who is there ? ' Ernest mumbled
something about his having made a mistake. His brain
was in a whirl. He got the door open at last, hurried out
into the moonlit street, and literally ran to his lodgings.

Christmas Eve waned and merged into Christmas
morning. Paris was frozen into stony stillness ; the stars

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 277

still burned with frosty splendour ; the spirit of sleep had
* knit up the ravelled sleeve of care,* and even the outcasts
and the forlorn had slunk away somewhere — some of them,
perhaps, into the Seine, that, shimmering with the sheen of
silver, flowed silently and mysteriously to the sea.

Boom ! boom ! boom ! The brazen tongues of the
bells told that the third hour of the Redeemer's natal day
had finished. And when the reverberations had died away
on the icy air, a cab, filled with armed gendarmes, rolled
noisily along, taking its way southwards until it reached the
Quartier Latin. Then it stopped, and the men of the law
descended. There were six of them, and they marched in
single file to the lodging of Ernest Milner, and while two
remained outside, four entered, and, mounting to his bed-
room, where he soundly slept, they awakened him rudely,
and arrested him on a charge of suspected murder.

Chapter IV

^ THE DEAD BEING DUMB SPEAK '

Paris awoke on that holy Christmas morning to the cry of
^ Murder,' a cry that was taken up and echoed and re-
echoed from one end to the other of the French capital.
The mysterious death of Colonel de la Motte excited
unusual interest, for he was well known as a retired army
officer who had rendered brilliant service during the terrible
struggle in the Crimea, and he had also made a name for
himself as an amateur dabbler in the science of astronomy.
Moreover, the circumstances of his death were sensational
and shrouded in mystery. The particulars that had been
gathered so far showed that, being Christmas Eve, Mile, de
la Motte, in company with her cousin, Robert Bin^t, went
out early to the house of some relatives to take part in
certain festivities in connection with a Christmas tree. The
housekeeper and her husband, the concierge^ had also been
absent for a couple of hours visiting friends. The Colonel,

ijS RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

who seldom paid visits, had been left alone in his observatory
engaeed in his favourite pursuit, the night being excep-
tionally brilliant. The housekeeper returned at half-past
ten, and on going upstairs was amazed to find a man in the
house. She recognised him as the person who had called
once or twice before to see Mile. Motte. He seemed to be
much confused on seeing the housekeeper, and stammered
out something about having come to speak to Mile. Motte.
The housekeeper, knowing that the young lady had been
out all the evening, in accordance with an engagement
made days before, was aware that his statement was false,
and as soon as he had gone she began to suspect that his
motive had been robbery. She first of all descended to her
husband, who had been no less surprised to see a man,
whom he recognised, taking his departure. Making known
her fears to him, she and he proceeded immediately to the
observatory, although as a rule the Colonel was very angry
if anyone intruded upon him. But believing that some-
thing was wrong they felt it was their duty to communicate
with him. They knocked at his door, but got no response.
Knocked again with the same result. Again, and still
an ominous silence. Then in fear and trembling they
entered the room, and were immediately horrified by seeing
M. de la Motte motionless on his sloping platform, upon
which he reclined when studying the stars. They called
him, but he made no sign, and then, almost beside themselves
with fear, they hurried out as fast as they could for Dr.
Tricolet, who resided close by. That gentleman returned
immediately and saw at once that the Colonel was dead. At
first the doctor thought that death was due to apoplexy, buf
a more critical examination caused him to come to another
conclusion. There were certain appearances about the eyes
and face which did not accord with an apoplectic attack.
The doctor summoned two colleagues, one of them being a
well-known scientist, and the three gentlemen were unani-
mous in their opinion that the deceased had not died a
natural death. The police agents were therefore communi-
cated with, and they heard the story of the concierge and his

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 279

wife. Then they made a cursory search of the premises to
ascertain if robbery had been committed. On going into
Mile. Motte's room they observed a jewel-case on the table.
One of the police examined the box, and was surprised to
find it was not locked. It contained a few odds and ends
of almost valueless jewellery, but it also contained a letter
addressed to Mile. Motte. The letter was opened and read.
It was from Ernest Milner, and contained this damning
passage. Alluding to her father, the writer said :

* His death alone will give me happiness.^

The police took possession of the letter, and at once six
gendarmes were despatched to effect the arrest of Ernest
Milner, to whom suspicion strongly pointed as the criminal.

The above were the particulars that were briefly gathered
by the representatives of the various papers, and they were
of a nature to arouse public excitement to a pitch of
intensity.

Pending the visit of the juge cT instruction the body of
the Colonel was not allowed to be touched or seen. The
observatory door was locked and sealed, and an armed
gendarme was placed on guard.

It was after one o'clock in the morning when Mile, de
la Motte returned home. She drove up in a cab with her
cousin, and the daughter and the nephew were informed of
the tragedy. Marguerite went into hysterics, and two
nurses had to be procured to take charge of her. Robert
Bin^t was also dreadfully overcome, and, pleading illness,
went home.

The juge d^tnstruction arrived in due course, attended
by various other functionaries, and having heard all the par-
ticulars and the opinions of the medical men, he ordered a
post-mortem examination to be made.

Within twelve hours of the death the examination was
made in the observatory. All the organs were found to be
perfectly healthy, but the lungs were bloated and almost
black, and the blood had clotted in the veins.

These unusual appearances left no doubt in the minds of
the medical men that the deceased had been killed by some

i

a8o RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

poisonous gas. This, of course, added a new element of
sensationalism and mystery to the crime. And it now
became of paramount importance that the nature of the gas
that had destroyed the Colonel's life should be determined.
In the observatory a small coke-stove was used to warm the
place, which was lighted with an oil lamp. This stove,
however, was found to be in perfect order, and gave off no
fumes, while the lamp contained colza oil. Besides, the
large aperture in the roof through which the telescope pro-
truded would have rendered suffocation by the coke almost,
if not absolutely, impossible, as the gas would have escaped
too rapidly. A minute and critical examination was there-
fore carried out, and it resulted in an important discovery
being made in the lumber-room which adjoined the
observatory. The police found here a pear-shaped india-
rubber collapsible bag, with a brass nozzle and tap. This
important piece of evidence was at once taken charge of,
in order that it might be subjected to a critical test. The
test resulted in the discovery of traces of carbonic acid gas.
This at once seemed to explain the cause of death. The
bag had been filled with the deadly carbonic acid, which had
been insidiously introduced into the Colonel's observatory.
Now it was certain that no ordinary criminal would resort
to such a means of destroying his victim, and on the face of
it it seemed another damning piece of evidence against
Milner. He was a man with scientific knowledge. He would
naturally be acquainted with the deadly nature of carbonic
acid gas, and the certain and almost sudden death it would
produce, while the difficulty of determining the cause of
death so produced was so great as to be almost impossible.
In the present instance the precise cause could not have been
determined except by the egregious folly of the criminal
himself in leavmg the bag behind him. When Ernest
Milner heard the charge against him he was stunned, for he
saw at once how circumstances must necessarily point to
him as the criminal. When he recovered from the first
shock he begged for writing materials, and he wrote a
frantic [appeal to Mile, de la Motte, to state everything

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 281

she knew that would be likely to clear him from the awful
charge. But she had already been examined by the police
agents and questioned as to the letter discovered in her
jewel-case, and her attention was particularly called to the
passage already referred to. That passage could not fail to
have an eiiect upon her, and she was compelled, even against
herself, to think Ernest guilty.

Poor girl ! it was an awful and cruel blow to her, and
rendered doubly heavy by the thought that the man whom
she had vowed to love had murdered her father. But on
Milner the blow fell with even more crushing force, and he
felt verily as if he would go raving mad. Appearances were
against him, he knew, but he knew also that he was
innocent. But, alas, innocent men sometimes fall victims
to circumstantial evidence. He protested his innocence —
protested it with the burning passion of despair ; but he
might as well have appealed to the moon. The police were
used to protestations of that kind. Then suddenly in his
awful misery he bethought him of the letter he had received
and which he had been fool enough to destroy. ^I have
been drawn into a trap,' he thought, and who could have
done it if not his rival ? This new thought gave him new
hope, and he resolved to make a desperate fight for his good
name, his honour, his love. He engaged an eminent
counsel, to whom he told the whole story. This gentleman,
who for forty years had been dealing with criminal cases, at
once saw that there was mystery in the present one, but the
mystery was penetrable. He instantly sought an interview
with Mile, de la Motte, although she was prostrated and
threatened with serious illness. She declared that she had
not sent the letter to Ernest which had induced him to go
to the house.

The counsel was therefore reduced to thinking that
Ernest's story was a mere fabrication, or he had really
received a letter. He inclined to the latter belief, for there
were certain elements in the afl&ir which, to the lawyer's
mind, indicated that the criminal was at large.

With exceeding tact the counsel led Marguerite to

282 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

speak of her cousin, and he learnt numy things about him,
and some of these things claimed his serious attention and
aroused his suspicions. Next, thanks to the system of
intricate espionage peculiar to France, he discovered a
manufacturer in the Boulevard Montmartre who made all
sorts of articles for chemical laboratories, and one of the
salesmen in the employment of this manufacturer remembered
having sold, a fortnight previous, an indiarubber bag with a
brass nozzle and tap, the bag being such a one as was
frequently used by chemists in their business. The seller
hadn't any very distinct recollection of the buyer, for it was
an ordinary transaction ; but, so far as he could, he described
him, and this description, although more general than
detailed, seemed to the lawyer to tally with Robert Bin^t.
He therefore had an interview with Bin^t, ostensibly to get
some particulars from him about his rival, but in reality to
probe Bin6t himself. But he had to confess himself baffled.
By no word, by no sign, by no look did Bin^t create a
shadow of suspicion. His manner was that of a man who
was entirely innocent, and who was broken-hearted with
grief at the terrible blow that had &llen upon the family.
The counsel was puzzled. If this man, he thought, was
really the criminal he was the most marvellously self-
possessed man he had ever had to deal with. The fourth day
from the night of the murder had arrived, and the
authorities had determined that the suspected man should be
confronted with the victim. [The reader need scarcely be
reminded that this is a custom in France.] The body still
lay in the observatory, and no member of the family had seen
it. That afternoon it was to be buried, and though
Marguerite sadly wanted to look her last upon her father's
face, it was deemed wise to dissuade her, as the efFect might
be to unhinge her mind, or seriously increase her illness.
Her cousin added his persuasion to the others, and she
yielded, though reluctantly.

* There is no reason why you should not take your
farewell look of your dead uncle, M. Bin^t,' said the counsel,
as he fixed *his eves on Bin^t's face*

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 283

Bin6t made some demur to this, but Marguerite told him
it was his duty, and so he consented.

Again the lawyer was baffled, for though Bin6t had
offered an objection, it was urged so naturally that there was
nothing to excite suspicion.

At two o'clock the prisonei was brought in a cab,
guarded by four gendarmes, to M. Motte's house. Already
the juge d^ instruction J the public prosecutor, the doctors,
and several criminal detectives had arrived, and all being
ready, they proceeded to the observatory, Milner walking
between two gendarmes. The counsel had entered into
conversation with Bin6t, the topic, naturally, being the
crime.

The juge entered the room first, and was followed by
his subordinates. Then came the prisoner, closely guarded,
Bin^t and the counsel bringing up the rear. The corpse
lay upon a shutter, supported by trestles. It was covered with
a sheet, and when, in accordance with the custom in such
cases, the prisoner had been placed close to it, and in such
a position that his eyes must see it, the sheet was suddenly
removed, and the ghastly, pallid, and puffed face, with the
glassy eyes staring widely as they had been purposely left by
the doctors, was revealed to view. Ernest Milner made
no start, and not a muscle moved to betray anything like
guilt. Many questions were put to him by the jugey but
he answered them clearly, and without the slightest hesita-
tion.

* Gentlemen,' said the Jugej * I think that is all I
require of you ; and as there is nothing more to do, the
prisoner may be removed.'

* Pardon me, Monsieur le Juge,* said the counsel, stepping
forward. * I have a full conviction of my client's innocence,
and I would like to impose another test.' Of course the
request was granted, and, taking the hand of the corpse, he
placed it in the hand of the prisoner. ^ Say as I say,' he
said. ^ Holding the hand of this dead man, I swear before
Almighty God that I am utterly innocent of having caused
the man $ death,'

284 RECORDS OF VINCENT TRILL

Ernest repeated the words firmly and dearly, and with
the air of one who spoke the truth.

^ I will now ask that gentleman there,' said the counsel,
indicating Bin^t, who had stood in the background, ^to
come forward and do likewise/

The effect of this unexpected request was almost magical,
and instantly every eye was turned to Bin6t, who, taken off
his guard, turned pale, and stammered out a request to be
excused.

^ Monsieur Bin^t,' said the counsel, in solemn and im-
pressive tones, * here, in the presence of the dead, I charge
you with being the murderer of Colonel de la Motte.*

* It is false ! It's false ! It's a diabolical charge ! '
cried Bin6t, in great agitation, and trembling in every limb.

* Thou art the murderer,' exclaimed the counsel, who,
seizing Bin6t by the wrist, dragged him forward.

^ The dead judges you and God witnesseth,' he said with
awful solenmity.

With a cry of horror Bin6t shrank away, and fell fainting
to the floor. In this supreme and awful moment his courage
and self-possession played him false, his guilt was revealed,
and he was at once placed under arrest.

Two days later, under the influence of unbearable
remorse, he unburdened his soul and confessed that he had
killed his uncle with carbonic acid gas. He had written the
letter to his rival, and had cleverly imitated his cousin's
handwriting. He had stolen away from the party whither
he had gone with Marguerite, and committed the crime
while Milner was in the house. Then he had left silently
and cautiously and returned to the festivities, and he believed
that the whole plot had been arranged so skilfully that there
was not a single flaw to betray him. If he had succeeded
in &stening the guilt on his rival he would have been able
to have persuaded his cousin to marry him, and thus he
would have got the fortune he craved for, for impecuniosity
and importunate duns had made him desperate.

After this confession Milner was instantly set free, but
the excitement and the shock had so told upon him that he

JUDGED BY THE DEAD 285

was seized with a dangerous illness, through which
Marguerite nursed him with an infinite love and a tender-
ness passing words, and six months later, when he was con-
valescent, she became his wife.

Bin6t was duly put upon his trial and was found guilty,
though with extenuating circumstances, and he was in con-
sequence sentenced to penal servitude for life, a sentence
from which he might have escaped altogether had he not
been judged by the dead.

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THE PICCADILLY NOVELS.

LiHuiT BniTiana D> NDVEi.*.i]uaT Illu(tnt(d,crDmfl>aielcilhaim,ji. 6i(. Bach.
_By MORT. A PRANCES COLLINS:

By IKACLAREN C .

B» M. J. C(1lQUMoOn,""

rj latG K iDii""

ByVTCECIL COTES.
G»V BOBERT CRADDOCK.

^ By B.'n. CRELLIN.

By MAIt'cRIM.
BirsrR™ROc'Kef?and ottieri.

Br ROBERT BUCHANAN.

Isiftanlluisr. LidjD,

ROB. BUCHANAN & HY. MURRAY.

^J. MITCtlBLL CHAPPLB.

*S CHaTW 4 WiNbtS. PublUlwN. in 8t. W^tlC't JMk, UbJcn, W-B.

D)' JOHN HILL.

U4* Ttnur'* f Uikt. I Hon Oiilu.
nt^^DUi HrrtKT An AuloDi Knu>L
rw ' ftnin EipaTtenl Pitar ■ WIA.'

By M™. ALPRBD HUNT.
ni laMtai OMtn. ) MUOiDdiDuiL
n*l OUw lltnu. Illn.j3)lit.

Br C. J. CUTCLIFFO MVNE.

Hy'^ASHB KINO,

B^EIwiOND LEPBLLETiER.

I)y ADAM LILBURN.

By HARRY LINDSAV.

By HENRY W. LUCY.

By E. LYNN LINTON.

By NUMB NISBBT.

' By W. E. NORRIS.
UL IBUl^BalUa.

By O. on NET.
IWft.

By Mrs. OLlPtlANT.
By OUIDA.

"^T^

. CAMPBELL PRAED.

iwbkUt. I Xn. TncuUK

tv E. c piHce.

^ By^Mr* J. H. I

" 7* AMBUBMVBS.

By AM

robVnson.
™ "^ mbrber/ rlTmblu

CHArttt A WINBIjS. fai >Ush«r>. IH St. Martln'i Uii. LooJon, W.C. ij

B7 MARK TWAIN.

Fadd'iIIHil Wuiu.

Vuk^TinJii'i Utirur naOlMiil^.

Bv ADEUrNE SEROBANT.

By JOI... ~

By RICCARDO

By^ A. STERNDALE.

^^R. LO'ULS 5TEVENSON.

By BERTHA THOMAS.

By ANTHONV TROLLOPE.
fh* W^ WB Lin H»w, I huborodehr "'

"bv FRANCES B. TROLLO]
By IVAN TUROEMI

iIjE.'

By ALLEN UPWARD.

K Quu asiJnilSwu | ILiFrlcci ofBxlUiI
By B. A. VIZETELLV.

It Scorpion : A RamRnpfl of Siwin.

By PLURGNCB WARDEN.

***""'^y"cy WARMAN.

Sy WILLIAM WE5TALL.
" By ATHA WESTBURV.

By C. J. WILL3.

B EuT-nlnff F*ll«r.

By JOHN STRANOB WINTER.
i'nar Lilt uut ReflmvnUJ Loffcndi,

By MAROARBT WYNMAN.
' """"to B. ZOLA.

u AblH KDUtt'i iTuiHTa'iiliin.
It QowhEoU. I T^B FkI And tht mi

CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS.

By ARTBMUS WARD.
By BDMOND ABOUT.
By HAMILTON AfOE.
By Mr*. ALEXANDER.

By GRANT ALLEN.

UiUdtUOoH.

ByE. LESTER ARNOLD.
BY PRANK BARRETT.

gi

ab^iuh&mi

By SHELSLEV BEAUCHAMP.

FREDERICK

**'**' ""by BRB'

CBunnuaMoiH.

BARTB.

run. I IfunlL

|A CHAtTO A WtNblJS. l>uMUhef«, ttl At. M«rtin*s Lane. London, W.Ci

Two-Srilliho NoTBL»-<on/fiii«^.

By HAROLD BRYDQBS.

VmeU Mtm at RoMt.

By ROBERT

BUCHANAN.

Vha Martyrdoa of 1K»-

Th* Ktw AlMlard.
Tht R«lr «f LlaiiA.
Womaa and tkt M»a.
BMh«i Dfftt. I KftM.
lAdy KUpAtritfk.

and MURRAY.

Bk»d»w of tht SWOK^
A Child of Mfttvo.
•od UMt th« MMi.

lOTO Ht for Svtr.
Foxfflovo Uaaor.
tboVMtor of thoMlB*.
Aamaa W4t«r.

By BUCHANAN

n* CMrUtaa.

By HALL CAINB.

ThtthadowofAOrliikO. I Tbo Oociiutor.
▲ iOB of B&gar. 1

By Commander CAMERON.

VIm Cnako of the 'Bt»c^ rriac*.'

By HAYDBN CARRUTH.

Bit AdvoatorM of Joaef.

By AUSTIN CLARE.

For the Lovo of a Lan.

By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVB.

Fanl rerrell.

Wky Paul ForroU KiUod hia Wlfo.

By MACLAREN COBBAN.

At euro of Boala. | Tbo Xod ftaltaa.

By C. ALLSTON COLLINS.

Tht Bar Binlitor.

By MORT. & PRANCES COLLINS.

Swoot Ann* Pago.
Traasmigratlon.
Fiom Mldnicht to ICld-

nlslit.
A Fight with Fortime.

By WILKIE

Armadalo. ( AftorDark,
Ho Namo.
Antonlaa.

Bwoot and Twenty.
Tho yuiago Comedy.
Ton Play me False.
BUoUauth and Scholar

Franco*.

COLLINS.

My MiiceUanies.
The Womaa ia Whlto.
The If ooasto&o.
Man aoA Wife.
Poor Mlai Fuch.
The FaUea Loavoa.
Jeaebol's Daaf hter.
The Slack Eoho.
Heart aad Bcieaoa.
'IBarNol'
The Evil Qoaiaa.
Uttle Noirela.
Leeacy of Cala.
Blind Xove.

Bide aad Book.
The Dead Boerot.

aooa of Koarto.
Morim.?
nia New Magdalea.
The Ftosea Deep.
Tho Law and the Ladj
Tho Two Doitlidei,
Tho Haunted HoteL
A Boigno'i Life.

By M. J. COLQUHOUN.
Bvoty Xnfih a Boldier.

By BUTTON COOK.
1,00. i Pant Foster's Banghtor.

By C. EGBERT CRADDPCK.

The Prophet of the Qreat Sntoky Monataiaa.

By MATT CRIM.
The AdToatoros of a Fair RebeL

By B. M. CROKER.

Village Tales aad Jonclo
Tragedies.

Two Slasters.

ICr. Jervls.

The Real Lady Hilda.

Karried or Single t

CYPLES.

Pretty MisSvNeville.

Diana Barrlngtoa.

•To Let.'

A Bird of Faisaca.

Proper Pride.

A Family Ukeneai.

By W.

Hoarts of Oold.

By ALPHONSB DAUDET.

Tho KraagtUst ; or. Port Salvation.

By ERASMUS DAWSON.

no Fonatala af Tontk.

By JAMBS DB MILLB.

AOMtUik

By J. LBIJH DBRWENT.
•w U^ fit^ I €^'g IftoHh

_ By DICK

Tho Kaa-Hvntor.

Tracked aad Takia.

OavfktatLaitl

WaaMdt

Who Foiaonod Httty

Daaoaat
ICaik frttm Xaaehostor.
A Dotoettvo's Trtnniphs
Tho Kystory of Jamaica Tenaca.
Tho OhaaBloleo af **<'»»'**' Dajtsvlteh.

By Mrs. ANNIB BDWARDBS.

A Foiat of Hoaonr. | Archie Lovell.

By M. BBTHAM-BDWARDS.

FoUola. j Kitty.

By EDWARD BQQLESTON.

DONOVAN.

Ja tha Qrip of tha Lavf.
From Tnfopnatioia &•>

eeivod.
TIacfcad to Dooak.
l^bvLtak
Banicko Aroaaod.
Ban ueeda.
RiddlasSead.

Hoay.

By Q. MANVILLB PBNN.

The Hew lustre
Witaooi to tho Deed.

I The Tlfer LllT.
I Tho WMte Virgla.

By PERCY

Bella Doana.
Never Forgottoa.
PoUy.
Fatal Zero.

FITZGERALD.

Second Mrs. TlUotson.
Bovoaty • flv« Brooke

Street.
Tho Lady of Braatomo.

By P. PITZQBRALD imd others.

Btrasf Secrets.

By ALBANY DB FONBLANQUB.

Filthy Lucre.

By R. S* FRANCILLON.

Oljrmpla.
Dae by Oae.
A Beal Qneen.
Qaoen Cophetna.

By HAROLD

Xiag or Knave?
Homa&ces of the Law.
B<mes-of jlaad.
A iMg aad hia Shadow.

BRBOBRIC

Both's Brothor'i Wifo. I Tho Lawtoa Oirl.

Prefaced by Sir BARTLB FRERB.

Faadaranc fiarL

By EDWARD GARRETT.
Tho Oapol aitls.

By GILBERT GAUL.

A Strange icanoscrtpt.

By

Robia Gray.
Fancy Free,
For Lack of Gold.
What wiU World BayT
In Lovo and War.
For the Sing,
la Baatnres Oreoa.
Queen of the ICeadow.
A Heart's KrobloaL
ffho Doad Hoart.

CHARLES GIBBON.

In-Hononr Bound.
Flower of the Foresl
Tha Braos of Yarrow.
The Golden Shaft.
Of RlKh Degree.
By ICaad aad Btreaia.
Loviag a Oreaoa.
A Hard "Knot.
HOarfs Delight.
Blood-lIoMT.

By WILLIAM GILBERT.

Dr. Aastin'a Gaosto. | The Wiaard of tho
James Duke. i IConntaia.

By ERNEST GLANVILLE.

The Lost Heiress. I Tho FossfadtAr.

A Fair Colonist. |

By Rev. S. BARING GOULD.

Bod Spider. | £ve.

By HENRY GREVILLB.

A Hoblo woman. | Nikanor.

By CECIL GRIFFITH.

Ooilathla M ararioa,

By SYDNEY GRUNDY.
Tho Says of Kit Vaatjfy.

By JOHH HABBERTON.
sHas . ^ - - -

i^you. I Ootafxy Luck.

By ANDRBW HALLIDAY..
iTonT'day Pa^sn.

By TUPMAS HARDYs
» wffawtod ArMi

CHATTO & WINDUS, PubHshef5, in 5t. Martin's Lane. London, W.C. 31

Two-Shillino NovEi.9^-amtinued.
By JULIAN HAWTHORNB,

£Uic« Qa«ftttai.
Fortaii«4»l!^L-
lUtiM Cftdogna.
Bebaatiaa StroiB*»
Oust.

B«attlx}(«luU>lk>k.

OaviamfeadBztor'f IN*-
appeiaraaoe.

Ti^e Spectra of the
Canera.

, .^Z ^*«' ARTHUR HELPS.

Ivan de Kron.

o I K*». ,^3:0. A. HENTY.

Rnjub the Juggler.

* T ., ®y HENRY HBkMAN.

A Leading Lady.

, K *..^^."FAI>ON HtLL.

Zambra the Detecfive.

^ , By JOHN HILL.

TreaeoB Felony.

TV T ®3f Mrs. CASHEL HOEY,

The LoTer'ff Creed.

The Three Oraeee.
Vnsatiifactory LoTer.
Lady Patty.
Nora Creina.
The Profeuor'f Zxp•r^
ment.

A ICaSden all Forloni.

la Durance YUe.

Marvel.

A Mental Struggla.

A Mbdem Olree.

Lady Tomer's flight.

The &ed Honse ICysteory

1. .By^Mr*- ALFRED HUNT.

Thornlcroft's ModeL | Self-Oondemned.
That Other Person. \ The Leaden Caaktt,

K, Dead B^J ^^ JAMESON.

•K.« 1.J??: HARRIETT JAY.

The Dark CoUeen. | Qaeen of C<maa«ghi

« , I , |Jy MARK KERSHAW.

Colonial Facts and Fictions.

By R. A3HB KINO.

A Drawn Same.

'The Wearing of the

Green.'

Pa8sloi>'8 Slava.
Bell Barry.

By EDMOND LEPELLETIER.

Madame Sans Qene. *-*-•-■- *»i^-

-TK r. A ^y -"^"N LEYS.

The Lindsays.

By B. LYNN LINTON.

Patricia ZemihaU.

The World Well Lost.

Under which Lord?

Paston Carew.

• My Love t '

lone.

With a Silken Thread.

r..^ .Py HENRY W. LUCY.

Gideon Fleyce.

By JUSTIN McCarthy.

The Atonement of Leam

Dnndas.
Sobel of .the Family.
Sowlhff the Wind.
The One Too Many.
DnldeEverton.

Dear Lady Disdain.
WaterdalaKeighboors.

My Enemy'*' Danghter! ^The Comet of
AFair8axoj. The Dictator,

Lintey Boohford.
MissM

Donna <taixote.
,Msid«f Athens.

^aSeajwa.

Bed Diam<mds.
The Kiddle BlBg:

Jisaathrape.
Camiola.

„ ^ ■ By HUGH MACCOLL.

Mr. Stranger's Sealed Packet.

Heath?r^«?dl?o5.^^ MACDONALD.
Quaker^^nSS'^'S^ MACDONELL.

By KATHARINE S. MACQUOIP.
ThefcvllEre. 1 Loft.Bose. ^ *^^

By W. H. MALLOCK.

A Ronuiee of the Nine- 1 The New BepnhUa,
lieenth Century. ] *«i»»i«i*

» ,/ .. Py^*'- MASTERMAN.

Half-a-dozen Dattg^iters.

^ ^ By BRANDER MATTHEWS.

A Secret of the Sea.

. - ,... .5y.L. T. MEADE.

A Soldier of Fortnne:

;^ By LEONARD MERRICK.

The Man who wa« Ck>od.

By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.

Touch and Go. } Mr. DorlUiou.

- .V Bv Mr5. MOLES WORTH.

Hathercourt Bectory.

»..«,?? **• J* MUm)OCK.

StorfesWeirdand WiA* From the Bosom of the

derful. Deep.

The Dead ICaifi Secret.

By .a CHRISTIE MURRAY.

A Bit Of HnmanJTatnre.
First PersctB Slnnlar.
Boh Martin's UttleOirl.
Time's Bevenges.
A Wasted Crime.
In-I^lrest PerlL
Mount Despair.
A CapfiU o' Kaila.

A Model Father.
Joseph'a Coat.
Coa's.of Fire.
Val Strangeijflearti.
Old Blazer's Hero.
The Way of the World.
Cynic Pbrtune.
. A Life's Atonement.
By the Gate, of the Sea.

By MURRAY aqd HERMAN.

One Traveller Betums. | The Bishops' Bible.
Paul Jones's Alias. [

By HENRY MURRAY.

A Game of Bluff. | A Song of Sixpence.

.. .,« ..^y HUME NISBET.

• BaU TTp I • I Dr.Bernard St.Tincent.

4.. ^y W* E.' NORRIS.

Saint Ann's.

-V ^.^y ALICE O'HANLON.

The Unforeseen. [' Chance 7 or Fate t

_ ^ By QEOROBS OHNET.

Dr. Bameau. I A Weird Gift.

A Last Love. |

«n.«* , ..I ^y ^"- OLfPHANT.
?K?rr1SeFath. T ^n??;;^ "•^" *»
Fh»?e^F^SS;e?^«^"^T«'"^E"-*-V.

By OUIDA.

Held in Bondage.

Strathmore.

Chandos.

IdaUa

Under Two Flags.

Cecil Castlemalne'sGage

Trlcotrln.

Puck.

FoUe Farlne.

ADogofFlandan.

Pascarel.

Sinia.

Princess Haprazlno.

In a Winter dty.

Ariadne.

Friendship.

TwoLltWoodKPgboas

Moths.
Blmbi.

PlnistreUo.
AVI

riilage CommuM.
Wanda.
Othmar
Frescoes.
In Maremma.
Guilderoy.
BufBno.
Syrlin.

SanU Barbara.
Two Offenders.
Onida's Wisdom,
acd Pathoa

Wit.

^ By MARGARET AQNES PAUL*

GenUe and Simple. «-«wi-«

«. «r_^ By EDQAR A. POE.

The Mystery of Marie Boget.

By Mra. CAMPBELL PRAED.

The Bomance of a Station.

The Soul of Countess Adrian.

Outlaw and Lawmaker.

Christina Chard. | Mrs. Tregaiklsa

tr.1 «« ^y ^ ^ PRICEV^

Valentina. 1 Mrtf. Lancaster sXivaL

The Forelgaan. • J Gerald ■«▼«•

wi « By RICHARD PRYCB.

Miss Maxwell's Affeetions.

"^ By ARTHUR SKETCtlLCV.
By HAWLEV SMART.

By C C. PRASE R-TYTLE It

By SARAH TYTLER.

* BrldflV PMi, I Till Hncanot FtnllJ

By ALLEN UPWARD.

By AARON WATSON nnd LILLIAS

WASSERMANN.

By WILLIAM WESTALL.

By Mrs. P. H. WILLIAMSON.

By J. S. WINTER.

rn* bfUihmu of tk> Eu OU.
By CBLIA PARKER WOOLLEY.
By EDMUNDYATES.
By 1. ZANdWILL.

■•rrnoH hiu^ ^^